


next time on jerry springer

by Dandybear



Series: next time on [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Babyfic, Barely Graphic Violence, Conversations About Race, F/M, I just don't want to make this fic have like a billion pairing tags for background interactions, Jewish Tony Stark, Non-Explicit Sex, Peter Parker needs to work through some stuff, There are other canon pairings in this, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-19 15:24:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11900571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandybear/pseuds/Dandybear
Summary: They announce it at an Avengers barbecue. Rhodey already knows because May is terrible with secrets about this kind of thing.Peter dodges a frisbee thrown by one of Vision and Wanda’s creepy kids.“Hey guys, we have an announcement.” He says over the music.(There’s a war between Sam and Tony. Funk versus classic rock. Which is more barbecue appropriate? Who cares. Alienate everyone by getting aggro about it and making the music too loud anyway.)It gets the attention of less than half the team. Michelle rolls her eyes, then uses her ‘Decathlon Captain’ whistle that always makes Peter jump like a foot in the air.“We’re having a baby.” Michelle says.Still clutching his chest, Peter nods.--babyfic futurefic sequel to 'next time on hoarders'





	1. First Trimester

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I should write a fic from Peter's POV  
> Me: I should write a sequel to 'next time on hoarders'  
> Me: guess I'm gonna mash 'em together.  
> Me: oh no, I'm making a woman's pregnancy All About Her Male Partner
> 
> So, yeah, this is very Peter-centric with Michelle as a badass supporting character who has a vivid inner life separate from him, but Peter has A Lot Of Issues With Becoming a Parent That He Thought He Had Repressed Until Now. Also, Tony has some parenting-related angst and makes it All About Him.
> 
> May/Rhodey for best ship 2017.
> 
> Oh, this is gonna be in like two or three chunks because it is MASSIVE and I CRAVE VALIDATION.
> 
> Pls review.

**First Trimester**

 

Turns out that while he might have less, the sperm he does have are very determined at fertilizing eggs. A month of trying for a baby results in Michelle missing her period. A pregnancy test later and that hypothetical new place to live is now a concrete reality.

 

“Damn, Pete, way to put the swimmers to work.” Michelle pats his bicep.

 

He’s still got wide eyes fixed on the pregnancy test. He blinks it away.

 

“I think it’s safe to say that it might have been a case of sheer volume.” He says.

 

Michelle snorts and blushes at that. She pulls a ‘fair point’ face.

 

Since they’ve been at it like rabbits for the past month or so. (Not that he’s complaining. People have been remarking on how handsome and relaxed he’s been lately. He was sparring with Nat and she got all red faced and frustrated trying to get a hit in. That never happens.)

 

“So, we’re doing this.” He reaches for Michelle’s hand.

 

She twines their fingers and kisses his knuckles, “You and me.”

 

“And baby makes three.” Peter says.

 

Momo meows.

 

“And you too, I guess.” Peter says.

 

Momo huffs and struts back into the living room.

 

“Wanna call Ned?” Peter says.

 

“Hell yeah I wanna call Ned.” Michelle sits so they’re thigh to thigh.

 

“What if it’s a miscarriage and we get him excited for something that doesn’t happen?” Peter says.

 

(‘Cause it’s totally Ned he worries about disappointing. Not the devastation that losing their first child would bring the two of them. In therapy, Peter shares that he copes with his own pain by transferring that emotion onto a safer, external source.)

 

“Ned got excited for the Pacific Rim cartoon, this can’t be more heartbreaking than that.” Michelle says.

 

Peter snorts and pulls her close. He kisses her face all over. Eyebrows, nose, chin, cheeks, lips. Michelle giggles and presses their foreheads together.

 

“How about instead of telling him over the phone we do a dinner and I perform ‘You’re Having My Baby’.” Peter says.

 

Michelle shoves him away, “You’ve been watching Glee again.”

 

“The first season is actually good though!” Peter shouts as she leaves the room.

 

* * *

 

 

They announce it at an Avengers barbecue. Rhodey already knows because May is terrible with secrets about this kind of thing.

 

Peter dodges a frisbee thrown by one of Vision and Wanda’s creepy kids.

 

“Hey guys, we have an announcement.” He says over the music.

 

(There’s a war between Sam and Tony. Funk versus classic rock. Which is more barbecue appropriate? Who cares. Alienate everyone by getting aggro about it and making the music too loud anyway.)

 

It gets the attention of less than half the team. Michelle rolls her eyes, then uses her ‘Decathlon Captain’ whistle that always makes Peter jump like a foot in the air.

 

“We’re having a baby.” Michelle says.

 

Still clutching his chest, Peter nods.

 

Thor slaps Peter on the back and _ow._ Tony breaks out an expensive bottle of scotch that Peter refuses a glass from.

 

Michelle looks a little overwhelmed at being crowded by Steve, Sam, and T’Challa. They’re all talking over each other and gesturing excitedly.

 

Peter manages to escape down to the boathouse because he’s feeling an oncoming panic attack. Of course, he finds Bruce already there.

 

“Hey.” Bruce says.

 

“Hey.” Peter moves to sit.

 

“Easy!” Scott shouts.

 

“Sorry, Scott. Didn’t see you.” Peter picks another chair.

 

Scott grows back to human size and takes his helmet off.

 

“What are you two doing down here?” Peter says.

 

“Building microscopic vehicles in case it becomes necessary to travel in someone’s body.” Bruce says.

 

He says it with that wry half-smile that always makes Peter think he’s joking.

 

“Well, may I suggest making it in the shape of a school bus. A magic school bus.” He says.

 

Bruce and Scott laugh at that because they are legitimately the nerdiest Avengers.

 

Peter heads back to the barbecue when his chest doesn’t feel so tight and breaks into a jog when he hears raised voices. He bumps into Nat and Laura sneaking a joint. They grimace at him.

 

“You’d better get in there.” Nat says.

 

“Shit. Shit.” Peter skips the stairs and climbs up the deck by the side.

 

Most of the party has moved to different parts of the yard or the house. Sam and Steve are notably absent and Tony’s seated across from Michelle. Who let this happen? Peter looks around for Pepper, but she must’ve taken Ana inside.

 

Tony’s drunk on Scotch and Peter’s known Tony long enough that Scotch makes him mean.

 

He looks to Michelle to see that while she has her book out, she’s glaring daggers at Tony.

 

Vision’s hovering uncomfortably by the grill with Maria and a disinterested looking Nick Fury.

 

“I’m just saying, I’m much too young to be a zaide.” Tony says, popping a chip with salsa into his mouth.

 

Michelle sets her book down on the chair next to her, lowering the feet she had up.

 

“I’m sorry that your insecurity about your age in relation to being my boyfriend’s mentor makes you think you can somehow dictate what I do _with my own body._ ”

 

Peter’s Spidey Senses are actually going off at this. He can see, hear, and smell everything in extreme close up vision. Is he gonna have a heart attack?

 

“Come on, you know what I meant. It’s just a little weird, considering Ana had her eighth birthday last month.” Tony said.

 

Michelle pops a grape into her mouth, chews, then cracks her neck. It’s like she’s an anime tough guy getting ready for a fight.

 

“Right. Your situation of having a surrogate, then having an army of nannies care for your daughter is perfectly normal. Not at all exploitative of immigrant labour so you and Pepper can have the cake and eating it too of active business lives while getting the legacy of reproduction minus actually being in your child’s life.”

 

Peter decides now is the time to intervene, “Time to go.”

 

Tony’s face turns from blank to a vindictive sneer.

 

“Awfully judgmental of you Michelle. Good to know that’s what you really think.” He says.

 

Michelle remains scary calm as she takes Peter’s arm and follows him down the stairs. They bump into Clint on their way out.

 

“He still drinking?” Clint says.

 

“Yeah.” Peter rubs his face.

 

“He picked a fight with Steve earlier, don’t take it personally.”

 

“Yeah. Have a good night.” Peter says.

 

Michelle drives on the way back. She’s still tight lipped, but her free hand is on Peter’s thigh.

 

Finally, she exhales through her nose noisily.

 

“I should’ve kicked his ass.”

 

“Tony’s… abrasive when he gets like that.” Peter grabs her hand and kisses her knuckles.

 

“You must’ve missed the part where he implied that I was trapping you.” She spits.

 

Peter chokes on air.

 

“He did what?!” He sputters.

 

“Something about how I must really be a female spider now that I’ve got you all wrapped up.” Michelle says, keeping her eyes on the road.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Tony.” Peter mutters.

 

He gets a text from Pepper asking what happened. He doesn’t have the energy right now.

 

 **Peter:** Decided to pack it in early. Will call tomorrow. <3

 **Pepper:** Maria gave me the play by play. He’s sleeping on the couch.  
**Pepper:** Tell Michelle I’m sorry. <3

 

“Pepper says she’s sorry about what happened.” Peter says.

 

“He’s a grown assed man. He can apologize himself.” Michelle says.

 

* * *

 

 

The best part of moving out of their Harlem apartment is watching The Defenders pretend to have a hard time moving furniture. Jessica Jones, known asshole, wipes sweat off her brow after carrying the smallest box she can find. It takes Trish trying to take down a bureau by herself to get Jess off her ass.

 

“The fridge is staying, right?” Luke says.

 

“Yeah, it came with the apartment. We actually sprang for a new one with the new place.” Peter rubs his chin.

 

Luke blinks at him.

 

“Hey Pete.” He says.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Some advice. Ditch the beard.” Luke says.

 

Peter deflates, “Michelle says it looks like I drew it on with an orange sharpie.”

 

“She’s not wrong.” Matt says.

 

“Fuck you, Matt, you haven’t seen it!” Peter says.

 

“I can barely hear the sound it makes when you stroke it. I imagine it’s peach fuzz.”

 

That makes Jessica choke on her coffee.

 

“Trish, back me up here!” Peter says.

 

Trish winces at him and shakes her head, “Sorry, Peter. It’s not a good beard.”

 

“I’ll show you peach fuzz!” Peter rubs his face on Matt’s bare wrist.

 

“Hey, hey, quit roasting him. That’s my job.” Michelle says, entering with more boxes.

 

“They’re making fun of my beard.” Peter whines.

 

“I heard, now quit rubbing up on Matt. It’s super weird.” Michelle kisses his scratchy (patchy) cheek.

 

“He’s trying to look more Dadcore, but twenty-three is too young for a Dadbod.” Michelle says.

 

“What’s a ‘Dadbod’?” Matt says.

 

Luke lifts up his shirt.

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Trish says.

 

Danny walks in and sees this as an opportunity to take his shirt off.

 

“I am going to load these boxes into the van.” Michelle says, looking away.

 

Peter follows her, “Let me help. You shouldn’t be carrying heavy things.”

 

Michelle flips him off, “It’s literally one box, Peter. Our kid isn’t going to fall out of my vagina.”

 

On their way out they hear,

 

“What are we doing?” From Danny.

 

“Put your shirt back on.” From Jessica.

 

* * *

 

The place they’re moving into in Queens is in the same neighbourhood as Ned, but it won’t be ready until mid October.

 

So, they’re holed up in his childhood room in May’s apartment. She’s reno’d the place so that she can rent it out to college students during the year. It’s weird that it both is and isn’t home. The house hasn’t changed much, he just feels like he’s outgrown it.

 

When he gets in from work he finds May and Rhodey in the kitchen making dinner. They don’t notice him yet and are just laughing and eating red peppers. Peter pauses in the doorway to watch.

 

As far as step-dad (uncle, boyfriend-of-aunt?) material goes, James Rhodes is pretty great. They’ve known each other for years and it never really occurred to Peter that he and May would be such a good fit.

 

“Ugh, this tortilla is burning. Sixty years on this earth and for the life of me I cannot use a frying pan.” May says.

 

“Alright, alright, I get it. Go sit, let the men do the cooking. Isn’t that right, Peter?” Rhodey says with a wink.

 

He’s deceptively observant. Peter guesses it’s the military background.

 

May sets about grabbing plates and cutlery. Peter puts his bag down by the door and glances around.

 

“Where’s the cat?” He says.

 

“That’s no cat. That is a dog that says, ‘Meow’. He’s napping in your room with Michelle.” Rhodey says.

 

“He keeps trying to eat the butter.” May says.

 

Peter greets her with a kiss to the cheek, “Sorry about that. We don’t usually keep it in the house, so he isn’t trained to not be a brat about it.”

 

He pats Rhodey’s shoulder, “I’ll come help with dinner in a sec.”

 

“Hey, you’d better. A father needs to know how to cook at least three meals.”

 

(It’s the difference between Rhodey and Tony as father figures. Tony tries, but ends up making things All About Him. Rhodey’s motto is just, ‘do the work’.)

 

Peter enters his childhood room. It’s illuminated by the street lights from outside and the light of Michelle’s laptop. The paper she’s working on is reflected in her glasses. Her laptop is perched on her chest while she types away. Momo is curled up against the warmth of the computer, just above Michelle’s occupied womb.

 

“Hey.” He says at library volume.

 

“Hi.” She yawns.

 

Their bed takes up most of the room. Peter sheds his socks and crawls across it on hand and knee to kiss her.

 

“How was your day?” She says, pushing her laptop to the side and replacing it with his head.

 

“Good. Glad to be home.” He strokes Momo’s fur and nudges past him to Michelle’s belly.

 

“There’s a baby in there.” He says, awed.

 

“Yes, Peter, we’ve been over this.” She laughs.

 

“You contain multitudes.” He says.

 

“You’re a nerd.” She says.

 

“You’re a nerd. Our baby is gonna be a nerd.” He says.

 

“That’s for sure.” Michelle says, “I have to pee. Get up.”

 

She grumbles, moving him and Momo. Peter sits up and slaps his cheeks a few time to get his second wind. He always wants to pass out after work. Having their own house was good for that. Take a two hour snooze between work and doing night work as Spider-Man.

 

(Their place in Harlem was pretty out in the open and it made it more difficult for him to just Spider-Man in and out of the window. Thus, having to wait for night.)

 

Momo presses his nose into the corner of Peter’s eye.

 

“Thank you for this blessing.” Peter says.

 

Momo purrs loudly.

 

Peter shucks off his jeans and replaces them with a pair of Michelle’s sweatpants that he has to haul up to his bellybutton to fit. House comfortable, he shuffles back to the kitchen.

 

May is inspecting her pile of gourds.

 

“Peter, how many gourds is too many? Be honest.” She says.

 

“The limit does not exist.” Peter says.

 

Rhodey shakes his head at that, “They’re decorative. What is even the point?”

 

“It’s fall. I like making the house festive.” May says.

 

Michelle joins them, scoffing at Peter’s stolen pants.

 

“MJ, gourds or nah?” Rhodey says.

 

“I am pro-gourd.” Michelle says.

 

“Some white people bullshit. Alright, I know when I am outvoted,” Rhodey says, “Peter, you are designated fajita flipper.”

 

Peter takes his station by the frying pan. He watches Rhodey sprinkle cheese onto the mix of peppers and chicken before closing the tortilla.

 

“Is this not just a fajita flavoured quesadilla?” Peter says.

 

Rhodey gives Peter that serious look he knows is reserved for army recruits. Peter feels the muscle in his jaw jump, but he does not flinch.

 

“Probably.” Rhodey says, his smile all white teeth.

 

May and Rhodey elbow each other and joke at the table. It’s very cute and Peter can’t hide his smile. Rhodey catches it and levels him with another serious stare.

 

“Going out tonight?” He says.

 

Peter watches Michelle steal some of his guac without commenting.

 

“Yeah.” He says once he’s finished chewing.

 

Rhodey nods slowly, “Have you started thinking about taking some time off for paternity leave?”

 

May is looking at him too and he can tell they’ve discussed this.

 

“I mean, it’s not like New York is going to chill out for eight months just because I need time off.” Peter says.

 

He looks at Michelle because he’s honestly at a loss of what people want from him. She’s sympathetic, but he can tell this is dawning on her too.

 

“There are _a lot_ of heroes in this city. I think they can handle the load.” Rhodey says.

 

May softens that, “Having a baby is gonna eat up any and all spare time you have. Stuff like colic happens, and as important as muggings are, parenthood should be a team sport.”

 

She pats his hand.

 

“I think we’ll talk about it more the closer my due date gets.” Michelle says.

 

Peter shoots her a grateful look and grabs her knee under the table.

 

“Not that I’m doubting your abilities or commitment. ‘S a lot of balls to juggle, Pete.” Rhodey says.

 

They’ll work it out together is the mantra Peter plays in his head. He stares at the glowing plastic constellation still stuck to his ceiling and tries not to have a panic attack. Michelle’s back is to him and she’s snoring, unaware of the minor (potentially major) meltdown going on in his head.

 

He needs to get some air.

 

Karen asks him what’s wrong as he swings around Manhattan.

 

“Karen, I think I’m gonna have to pick between being Spider-Man and being a father.” Peter says.

 

“Why do you think that?” She says.

 

“Because if I try to do both at the same time I’m gonna make more mistakes. Being tired from late night burpings is gonna throw me off my game. People could get hurt or killed because I’m busy changing diapers. And, if I try to focus more on crime then I’ll be abandoning MJ to do all of the physical and emotional labour of raising our child.” It’s like word vomit.

 

“Hmm. That is hard, Peter. Some of the Avengers and Defenders have children. Have you asked them about their work-life balance?” She says.

 

That question hits Peter like a soothing balm. He can breathe again.

 

When he gets back in MJ is on her phone watching his tracker progress.

 

“Hey, sorry, couldn’t sleep.” Peter says.

 

“I know. Karen told me.” Michelle says.

 

“She is such a narc.” Peter sighs, pressing the logo on his suit. It drops to the floor.

 

He crawls into bed sans pajamas, intending to use Michelle as his heat sink for warmth. She sets her phone down and wraps herself around him.

 

“I know you have this thing about responsibility for others. It’s something I love about you.” She says.

 

“My responsibility should be to you and our baby first.” Peter says.

 

Michelle runs her fingertips along his face and ears. She doesn’t add anything to that.

 

He knows she’ll never pressure him on this. It’s maddening because sometimes he just wants her to lay down the law for him. Her making the tough decisions make his life easier because he knows she’s thought of every angle and reason and come to the most rational solution. He doesn’t have to worry about making the wrong decision. (He feels the same way when she orders for him off the menu at a fancy restaurant.)

 

“Find out how the others deal.” Michelle says.

 

“Good plan.” Peter’s drifting off to sleep.

 

Michelle says something to Karen, but he doesn’t make it out. Everything feels warm and fuzzy.

 

* * *

 

Peter takes a survey via text the next day. “Hey Hero Friends, how do you balance being a superhero and having a small child? Thanks! :)”

 

He’s editing photos at the Bugle, but his eye keep drifting to his phone for answers. Tony sees the question. He doesn’t respond. (Still sore about the fight with Michelle then.)

 

Trish is the first to respond in the Defenders chat (named ‘Pork Bun Addicts Anonymous’), she’s probably on her lunch break.

 

 **Trish:** Roy has a nanny for when me and Jess are busy.

 

 **Trish:** I could give you the number of the agency if you’re looking :)

 

Luke keeps typing for a long time, then says.

 

 **Luke:** we took less shifts after thea was born. It’s worth it to be around for those first moments. I know it’s a cliche, but they grow up fast.

 

Jessica pops into the chat.

 

 **Jessica:** Matt has something to say.

 

 **Jessica:** gsgjkwhgeuiwjigrgkgle

 

He snorts loudly then feels bad for laughing. They really need to lay off the blind jokes.

 

Peter sets his phone down and when he next looks at it there’s a response in the Avengers chat (that one’s called, ‘Town Hall’ because the Avengers are boring old people who don’t think Peter’s suggestion of, ‘crying while trying to lift Thor’s hammer’ is funny. But, they also don’t mind him giving them all nicknames in his phone. Or, they don’t know about the nicknames.)

 

(For the record, his current group chat with MJ and Ned is called, ‘does spider have pusspuss?’. He also has one with MJ, Ned, Liz, Mary Jane, and Harry called, ‘しりを食べる’.)

 

Clint and Natasha must be together because their answer comes moments apart and is exactly the same.

 

 **Hawk Guy:** laura

 

 **Spider-Mom:** Laura

 

 **Buck-kakke:** just leave them out on a mountain to see if they can survive on their own

 

 **Spider-Mom:** lmao

 

Peter rolls his eyes.

 

 **8000 Ants Screaming in a Trenchcoat:** I was a stay @ home dad until I got arrested. You just gotta be prepared to move schedules around.

 

Leave it to Scott to give an actual thoughtful answer. Cassie’s a teenager at this point, so Scott is one of the more experienced dads on the team.

 

 **Mobile Suit GunDad:** good to see you’re taking this seriously peter

 

Peter sends a thumbs up emoji.

 

The picture he has by the end of the day is that he’s either gonna have to go full hero and invest in a nanny or whatever, or full dad and take time off. Which is the same picture he had last night, but less dripping with guilt and terror. Everyone does it.

 

The question is when.

 

* * *

 

Halloween rolls around and Michelle isn’t nearly showing enough for any of the hilarious costumes they proposed. Instead they go Trick ‘R Treating with the rest of the New York bunch and their kids.

 

Peter matches pace with Trish and Jessica. Behind them, he hears Claire grilling Michelle on baby stuff.

 

Trish takes a sip from her thermos and winces, “Jess, tell me you didn’t spike the hot chocolate.”

 

“Whoops.” Jessica doesn’t sound apologetic at all.

 

“Give me a sip.” Colleen pokes her head between them.

 

Trish passes the thermos.

 

“Cheers.”

 

“Hey, wasn’t Matt gonna come along?” Peter says, looking around their massive pack of super powered adults and three children.

 

“He said something about handing out candy at a charity event.” Danny says.

 

“Funny, to me he said ‘he doesn’t don’t do Halloween’.” Jess says, air quotes and all.

 

Trish laughs at that even though it isn’t very funny. (Trish thinks everything Jessica does is funny because they are in love and it’s really cute.)

 

“I heard that he was going to a party with Foggy.” Luke says.

 

They all look around each other and sigh.

 

“Sounds like he’s back on his bullshit.” Jessica says.

 

“Who wants to bet Elektra’s in town.” Peter says.

 

“No bet.” Claire says, taking the thermos from Colleen.

 

Colleen slings her arm around Claire’s shoulders and leads Thea and Lee up the next walk.

 

Trish and Jess get preoccupied with fixing Roy’s Elmo costume, leaving Peter to fall into step with Luke.

 

“So, are you ready to be a father to a black child?” Luke says.

 

Peter sucks his teeth. He’s been waiting for this conversation, but unsure of how to approach it without being one of those white people who expect the people of colour they know to baby them on the hard stuff.

 

“I’m ready to do my best.” He says.

 

“You know that you’re gonna have to explain to your child why they’ll get treated differently than you do and why people might hate just the sight of your family.” Luke says.

 

Peter bounces on the balls of his feet, “We’ve had to deal with some of that already. The world is safer than it’s been for mixed couples, but we’re not there yet.”

 

He takes a moment before speaking.

 

“I’m terrified. I just think about ‘well, what if my son goes out at night wearing a hoodie and runs into some cops?’ How am I going to explain to them that in the eyes of many they will never be innocent children, but judged as guilty adults.”

 

He sees Thea skipping towards them in her bumblebee costume and wipes at his eyes.

 

“Sorry, I know I’m preaching to the choir with you.” Peter says.

 

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder and he looks up. Luke’s giving him a warm look mixed with a tight nod.

 

“I’m glad you’re choosing to be a father, Peter.” He says.

 

That makes warmth bloom in Peter’s chest better than the heater on his suit.

 

“Daddy! They gave me an Almond Joy!” Thea says.

 

“Did they now? Did you say, ‘Thank you’?” Luke says, picking his daughter up.

 

Peter smells Michelle before he feels her hook her chin over his shoulder. Her arms wrap around him and he leans into her.

 

“Did you pass your test?” She says.

 

“Think so. How about you?” He yawns and kisses her cheek.

 

“Claire wants us to know that she can be our midwife in case of emergency.” She says.

 

“Good thing we got the house with the big bathtub.” Peter says.

 

Later, when they’re freshly showered and tucking into bed, the group chat gets a message from Matt.

 

 **Deviled Egg:** My friends. It is with a heavy heart that I say, I am back on my bullshit.

 

Peter snorts and hands the phone to Michelle. She takes a screenshot. He looks at her.

 

“What? You never know when you’re gonna need that receipt.”

 

* * *

 

It’s November and they’ve finally unpacked everything and have an assembled living room. The windows are sweating from the cold outside and hot inside.

 

(Peter hasn’t found replacement wallpaper as good as the Thomas the Tank Engine stuff, but he did find a bunch of drawings and paintings in the dumpster behind Tisch, so that’s kind of better. Maybe they’ll be worth something someday, maybe they won’t, but he still likes them. There’s figure drawings made in pastel, a massive half-finished painting of a whale, and some still lifes of avocados he will give to Matt and Foggy next time he sees them.)

 

Ned’s over and they’ve all got their matching ‘Eggs’, ‘Bacon’, and ‘Sausage’ ugly sweaters on. Plastic pieces, sockets, screws, and wires are spread across the dining room table.

 

“Peter, I’m serious, please stop modding ‘Butter Bot’.” Michelle says, stretched between her chair and his, black socked foot nestled on his lap.

 

“You love Butter Bot. He’s hilarious.” Peter says.

 

“He’s the most disturbing fanart you’ve ever made.” Michelle says, holding in her laugh.

 

“We’re just giving him more nihilistic things to say. Chill.” Ned says.

 

To demonstrate, Ned presses the speak button.

 

“What is my purpose?” Butter Bot says.

 

“You pass butter.” They all say.

 

“Oh…  my god.” Butter Bot says.

 

They all laugh.

 

“Please, remove my sense of self.” Butter Bot says.

 

“You’ve really captured the despair of the way his little camera head hangs.” Michelle says.

 

“Thanks.” Peter says.

 

(He’s been flexing his robotics skills lately because he’s going to need to do something when he’s not out fighting crime. Tony denies it, but he is getting more tired and sore as the years go on. Stark Industries needs some extra hands up modifications and upgrades on Avengers tech.)

 

Karen does not find it funny and they can’t get a word out of her for the rest of the day.


	2. Second Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Michelle, I need a ring. Or some other proof of purchase.” Peter says when he gets home.
> 
> “Excuse me?” She says.
> 
> “People are still checking me out at work,” Peter says, “And, I mean, you’re the one who asked me so…”
> 
> It feels a little silly saying it out loud.
> 
> Michelle blinks at him, “Do you want an engagement ring, Peter?”
> 
> “Well, yeah.” He says.
> 
>  
> 
> It's all fluff and memes until that Repressed Trauma rears its ugly head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chunk is gonna be the biggest, third chunk is gonna take longer because I need to write most of it
> 
> if it were up to me, Uncle Ben would be played by Michael J Fox

Peter finds himself working more in-office at The Daily Bugle than before. (Because he doesn’t have to pay to heat the place and it’s cold as balls outside.) He’s a freelancer, but they’ve given him a desk and an Adobe Creative Cloud account. (Yay, now he doesn’t have to submit his photos edited in the Totally Legal and Legit Photoshop crack he has to an internationally published magazine.)

 

During his lunch breaks Peter watches videos on how to do black hairstyles.

 

“Please tell me you’re not thinking of getting white boy dreads.” Betty says.

 

Peter jumps in his seat and turns to look at her.

 

“Uh, no. My step-uncle sent it to me. Michelle’s pregnant and if the kid gets its mother’s hair then I’m gonna have to learn how to do this.” Peter says.

 

“Oh. Congratulations. Does JJ know you’re gonna be taking Pat Leave soon?” Betty leans against the desk.

 

He hadn’t thought about that.

 

“Uh, I can probably still submit photos to the paper.” He says.

 

“Typical Parker thinking. You’re gonna stretch yourself too thin with that. Tell him early, he’s a dad so he’ll take it easy on you, but he’ll try to talk you out of it the closer the due date gets.” Betty tosses out her Starbucks cup in Peter’s garbage bin.

 

“I’m guessing you’re speaking from experience?” He says.

 

“Happened to Donna and Neil both when they needed to take time off.”

 

“Shit.” Peter rubs at his beard.

 

“You have an Engineering degree, Peter, why do you even work here?” Betty says.

 

“I like taking pictures of Spider-Man.” Peter says.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m probably gonna drop my job at the Bugle and work full time at Stark Industries.” Peter says, crawling into bed.

 

Michelle sets her book and glasses down to look at him.

 

“Okay,” She says, “We should get married.”

 

He can tell she’s nervous by how quickly and casually she says it, picking her book up again.

 

Peter pushes it back down.

 

“Yeah. Absolutely.” He says, floored.

 

“Because I’m tired of waiting for you to ask.” She says.

 

“MJ… I’d never just pop that kind of life changing question on you.” Peter says.

 

She rubs at her eye and damns the pregnancy hormones because this is pathetic.

 

“I know May’s been bugging you about it and I thought maybe that would light a fire under your ass to start the discussion, but it’s been months and I thought  _ well, maybe Peter doesn’t want to marry me. _ ”

 

Peter blinks a lot as all of those details wash over him.

 

“Karen told you, didn’t she?” He says, “Dude, why you gotta play me like that?” He addresses the ceiling.

 

“I pass butter.” Karen responds.

 

Jesus, okay. He and Michelle share a ‘yikes’ wince.

 

“So, wanna get married?” They both say, then laugh.

 

Peter kisses Michelle softly once, then a little more passionately.

 

“I’ve been hesitant to bring it up, because you’re kind of anti-nuclear family,” He takes a deep breath, “And it’s weird getting into the whole name thing because I don’t know if you’d want to take my last name because there’s the whole ‘property of a white man’ thing about it.”

 

She blinks at him and pulls him closer, “I’ve thought about that too. But, I’m going to tell you a secret that you have to promise not to tell anyone else.”

 

“You’re better off not telling me, because I cannot keep a secret.” Peter says.

 

Michelle sighs, resigned at that fact. She pulls away and crawls to the side of the bed to pull out a box. He knows this box-slash-tub well. It has all of Michelle’s old sketchbooks. She pulls out the worn leather one he recognizes from high school.

 

Michelle flips to a random page and slides the book to Peter. He holds it up to the lamplight and sees it. It’s scribbled over in the corner, but the original message is still very clear.

 

_ Michelle Jones-Parker.  _ With a little heart. Peter clutches the book to his chest.

 

“Michelle.” He whispers.

 

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” She sniffs.

 

Damn hormones.

 

Peter laughs, shakes his head, then kisses her.

 

“And, it’s better if I become a Parker, because I’m getting my Doctorate and I will not be able to live with kids either quoting Raiders of the Lost Arc or singing Aqua at me.” She rolls her eyes and settles against his side.

 

“Doctor Jones, Doctor Jones, calling Doctor Jones.” Peter sings.

 

“That’s it. That’s the last time you get to sing that or I will divorce your ass.” Michelle says.

 

He sets the sketchbook gently on his bedside table and turns off the lamp.

 

“Can I come to your class and write ‘Love You’ on my eyelids?” He says.

 

“Peter, I swear to god.” She laughs.

 

He keeps his hand on her belly, “Doctor Parker. It’s sexy. I like it. Mr. and Doctor Parker. Have you met my wife, Doctor Michelle Parker?” He says in a bad British accent.

 

“Peter, if I fuck your brains out, will you shut the hell up?” Michelle growls.

 

“I dunno, are you offering?”

 

(She is.)

 

* * *

 

It happens all too fast. He’s done this a million times before. Maybe, that’s why. He gets cocky and thinks that he can just turn his brain off while cornering a robber in a frozen alley in Brooklyn.

 

“Hey Buddy, that doesn’t belong to you.” Peter says.

 

The robber jumps at the sight of Spider-Man and throws what he was holding. Spider-Man dodges and leaps after him. Thwip, the robber is stuck to the wall.

 

That’s when Peter feels the air around him move. Nastybreath. Fearsweat. Axebodyspray. Jinglingchains. Swishyjacket. Gunclick.

 

He sees the man standing at the end of the alley with his gun levelled at his own chest and he remembers.

 

Ben gasping through his own blood. How the colour left his face.

 

His mind is racing. Him not coming home. The way May screamed.  _ Can’tbeme. Won’tbeme. _

 

Someone is yelling in his ear. It must be Karen, but it all blends in with sense memories.

 

His body is doing something else all together. It’s the snap of bone and the man’s yell that brings Peter back.

 

The gun is lying in the snow and Peter is holding the two pieces of the man’s arm.

 

He’s going to be sick.

 

“I’m sorry!” He says.

 

He needs to be anywhere but here. He swings from building to building until his arms get tired and he needs to stop.

 

It’s Rhodey who finds him.

 

Peter’s teeth are chattering either from cold or shock as he clutches the ledge below him.

 

“Let’s go home.” Rhodey says.

 

“I didn’t mean to. I just thought ‘gun’ and ‘Ben’ and I lost control. I never lose control.” Peter’s mouth is sticky and dry and he’s probably slurring because of it.

 

“We can talk about it at home.” Rhodey says firmly.

 

He carries Peter back to May’s where they land on the roof and change before heading inside.

 

Ned, Michelle, and May are waiting.

 

“Dude, are you okay? Your tracker stopped for like two hours in the middle of nowhere and we thought you might’ve--” Ned can’t finish what he’s saying.

 

Peter buries his face in May’s neck and begins to sob. He’s not even coherent when he starts to apologize.

 

Peter wakes up in the guest room with a blanket wrapped around him like a burrito. His mouth tastes horrible and he’s wearing fuzzy socks that aren’t his. Light is filtering through the window.

 

He unrolls himself and trudges out into the kitchen. Michelle’s there working on her laptop. He must’ve done something worrying, because she gets up the moment she sees him and asks,

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Peter rubs his face.

 

“What happened after I got home last night?” He says.

 

He has some memory of it, but it’s patchy and embarrassing. He’d like some confirmation that he isn’t that much of a big baby.

 

“You cried. A lot. Kept calling May, ‘Mom’ and saying you were so sorry about everything. That Ben dying was your fault and that you don’t wanna die. Emotionally, I think you were about eight.”

 

“Fuck.” Peter sits down.

 

Michelle hands him a cup of coffee and starts making some scrambled eggs.

 

“You have therapy scheduled at two and a meeting with Steve at four.” She says.

 

“I snapped a guy’s arm in half, Michelle. Like, two pieces.” He says.

 

“Karen told me.” She says.

 

Peter watches her, waiting for her verdict. He wants her to tell him if it’s gonna be okay or not.

 

“You’re so careful around us, Peter,” She starts, “I guess last night was just a reminder that when you go Beast Mode you could easily kill someone. You’ve never harmed me. Even at our roughest.”

 

She sets a plate in front of him. It’s hasty and plain, but he wolfs it down while she talks.

 

He feels her fingers in his hair and leans back into her grip.

 

“He was shooting to kill. Legally, minus the vigilante justice part, it counts as self-defense. But, Peter, if JJ hears about this there are gonna be consequences. People are gonna be afraid of Spider-Man, for better and worse.” She says.

 

He finishes eating and says, “I’ve gotta unfuck this whole mess. I guess repressing my feelings about Ben hasn’t made them go away.”

 

“No, that’s not how that works, Tiger.” Michelle says.

 

“I’m sorry.” Peter says.

 

He pulls her onto his lap. The baby bump is big enough now to create a significant wedge between them. Peter hugs her closer anyway.

 

“I was really scared.” She says, “And if you tell anyone that, I’ll deny it.” She sniffs.

 

“Scout’s honour.” He says into her cardigan.   
  


Therapy goes as expected. He’s now been bumped up to twice a week with homework for when he experiences episodes of dissociation or gets triggered.

 

He meets Steve at the New York HQ. He’s walks Peter to the meeting room. Bruce, Clint, and Nat are there.

 

“How are you feeling?” Steve says.

 

“Awful. Better than last night though.” He might as well be honest.

 

His leg is shaking terribly. This is it. He’s getting fired.

 

“We heard about last night and have some concerns.” Bruce says.

 

Peter nods, lips tight.

 

“First of all, you’re not losing your membership or anything, Peter. We don’t abandon our own.” Steve says.

 

Peter exhales the breath he was holding.

 

“We think, well, I think, that your powers might be affected by different types of stress. Similar to mine. And we’d like to run some tests.” Bruce says.

 

“We’ve all done things we’re not not proud of. You made a mistake and I know you’re going to learn from it.” Nat says.

 

“They put his arm back together. Took twelve hours.” Clint says.

 

Peter lets go of that held breath too.

 

“This was a low impact freak out as far as these things go. We need to nip it in the bud before it escalates.” Bruce leans forward on his arms.

 

“You’re benching me.” Peter says.

 

“At least until the tests are done.” Steve says.

 

He can feel the tears behind his eyes. He holds his temples to keep them in. There’s a warm hand on his shoulder. Nat’s giving him this intense eye contact that makes his tears evaporate.

 

“It could be a number of things. Increased aggression due to exposure to different hormones.” Bruce is rattling off.

 

“Wait, you think maybe I’m acting psycho because Michelle is pregnant?” Peter says, offended.

 

“Just that there’s no way of knowing. You’re a new type of human, Peter. We don’t have anything to go on with why you do anything.”

 

“Or, it could be regular old Post Traumatic Stress.” Steve says.

 

Peter gets up, not wanting to sit down anymore.

 

“Go to therapy, stay off the radar for awhile, meet Bruce for tests. Maybe babyproof your house or something.” Steve says.

 

“If you need any tips on that… use the plastic pegs, they’re easier to break when you get fed up with not being able to open your cupboards.” Clint says.

 

Peter nods.

 

“Tony’s gonna give you a call tonight.” Nat says.

 

Great.

 

“Hey.” He says, unsure of what tone to use.

 

“Peter.” Tony says.

 

Shit.

 

Then there’s a sigh on the other end.

 

“Look, you royally fucked up. I know that, you know that. I’m sure I can’t make you feel any worse than you already do.” Tony says.

 

Peter squints at the phone. He was expecting to be torn a new asshole. Where is the asshole tearing?

 

“Everyone makes mistakes when they’re in altered states.” Tony says.

 

_ Ah. That’s why. _  Peter nods against the receiver.

 

“When Bruce ‘Hulks Out’ we don’t hold it against him. He gets triggered and, well, we clean up the damage and he does better next time.” Tony says.

 

“Yeah, we’re gonna… run some tests. See if there’s Spidey-related cause or if it’s a Peter Thing.” Peter says.

 

“It’s hard to draw the line sometimes. I’m sorry, Peter.” Tony says.

 

There’s a gentleness that Peter isn’t used to. He’s used to Tony’s brusque, clumsy give and take between affection and reprimand.

 

“Thank you, Tony.” Peter says.

 

“Is, uh, Michelle around? I owe her an apology too.” He says.

 

Peter gets up from his spot and wanders around the house (Momo following him, meowing because he thinks Peter will feed him.) until he finds Michelle watching Netflix.

 

“It’s Tony.” He mouths at her.

 

She scowls at him.

 

“He wants to apologize.” He whispers.

 

She lessens her frown and makes a grabbing motion at the phone.

 

“Stark.” She says.

 

* * *

 

Peter feels like an absolute prick showing up to Stark Industries Research and Development. Not for being there. He decides to wear something more formal than usual. It is the first week of a new job, so he springs for a pair of slacks and suit jacket. He wears the glasses he doesn’t need because it puts an additional barrier in terms of identity. (It works for Superman, okay?)

 

Tony shows him around. More specifically, Tony bursts into the R&D wing with Peter in tow and claps his hands.

 

“Everyone, I’d like to introduce our newest member. This is  _ my protege,  _ Peter Parker. Brilliant mind. Chemist, roboticist, engineer. You’ve all seen his work before.” Tony clicks a tiny remote that starts playback of some of Spider-Man’s greatest hits.

 

Peter feels his face going red. So much for blending in.

 

“Pete’s been supplying Spidey with web goo and building drones since he was in high school. He’s basically family.” Tony claps him on the shoulder.

 

They still haven’t talked about what happened in August. Tony apologized to Michelle and Peter, but they haven’t  _ talked-talked  _ even with the arm breaking incident _.  _ Peter assumes that’s why the older man is laying it on so thick.

 

Peter catches an image of their reflections and sees that with his beard and glasses he looks like a miniature version of Tony. Or, a younger one anyway, they’re about the same height.

 

The rest of the team looks impressed, bored, annoyed, a combination of the three. They just wanna go back to work.

 

“Nice to meet you, thanks for the glowing introduction, Tony. I look forward to working with all of you.” Peter says, feeling like he’s meeting The Avengers all over again.

 

Tony leads him to a private lounge on the twelfth floor.

 

“You hungry, Pete? Take a seat. What do you feel like having?” Tony’s going a mile a minute.

 

“Tony.” Peter puts his hand on Tony’s wrist.

 

Tony sighs, slows, and unfolds his sunglasses. He’s got huge circles under his eyes.

 

Peter’s been going to a lot of therapy lately. He knows how to de-escalate.

 

“How are you doing?” He says.

 

“I’m good. I’m tired, but I’m good. Got a lot of things on the backburner.” He twiddles his thumbs.

 

“You’ve been busy.” Peter says, moving his hand back.

 

Tony nods.

 

“I’m sorry about what I said at the barbecue to Michelle. That’s-- I didn’t-- I wasn’t trying to imply that she had trapped you into anything. I was trying to make a joke about how well you two go together and the words came out all wrong. I shouldn’t have been drinking.” Tony’s words come out in a rush.

 

“Tony. We want you in the baby’s life. As a zaide or whatever capacity you want to be.” Peter says.

 

(Because he knows Tony pretty well at this point and he knows insecurity is the heart of all this. Peter was Tony’s Kid and now he’s Michelle’s Man and Tony’s trying to figure out if he still fits. If Peter’s still gonna leave him hundreds of excited voicemails or try to impress him. The roles have reversed. Tony’s clamouring for attention and Peter’s the occupied adult. And, not all attention is good attention, but it is attention.)

 

He and Michelle have talked about it. A lot. Her stipulation being no abusive alcoholic behaviour around the kid. And that’s from any of their friends. Michelle’s had to have this talk with Jessica. (Which is just as hard because they’re like third cousins which is basically nothing, but they’re also Ride or Die ‘Fambly’ like Fast and the Furious.)

 

Tony relaxes. It’s like all of his strings have been cut and he can stop jittering around.

 

“Oh. Okay.” He says.

 

“Can I give you a hug?” Peter says.

 

“We have to stand up for that. Seated hugging is weird.” Tony says.

 

They’re both crying a bit. Peter isn’t sure when Tony’s scent became comforting, but he thinks they’ve known each other long enough at this point for it not to be weird when he takes a big sniff.

 

* * *

 

Peter wears office clothes for a week, max, before he starts showing up in sweats or jeans like everyone else. Depends how deep the snow is that day.

 

Mostly, he gets left alone. Everyone’s busy with their own thing. It’s half relieving, half lonely. He has to make friends, or at least work acquaintances all over again.

 

Well, there’s Tara, but she has a crush on Peter, so that’s different. She has a nose ring, glasses, and green hair and she is  _ so Peter’s type _ . He’s not sure how to be friendly but unavailable because she’s nice and he doesn’t want to lead her on.

 

But, he doesn’t also want to be that “Um, I have a girlfriend.” guy.

 

“Michelle, I need a ring. Or some other proof of purchase.” Peter says when he gets home.

 

“Excuse me?” She says.

 

“People are still checking me out at work,” Peter says, “And, I mean, you’re the one who asked me so…”

 

It feels a little silly saying it out loud.

 

Michelle blinks at him, “Do you want an engagement ring, Peter?”

 

“Well, yeah.” He says.

 

Michelle smirks. She gets up from their couch and disappears into the bedroom. She comes back with a ring box.

 

“You already bought one?!” He says.

 

“It was supposed to be a Christmas present, but I can tell this matters to you, so I’m gonna follow Beyonce’s advice and put a ring on it.”

 

Peter twists his wrist back and forth like the dance from that video. Michelle slips the ring on.

 

It’s got a big white stone surrounded by little red stones and it’s one of those thin, engagement type rings. Not a fat wedding ring. He knows because he’s been researching this. He has a whole private pinterest board.

 

“It’s sparkle-y.” He says in a hushed voice.

 

“Okay, I need to toot my own horn for a second. There’s a planet that rains rubies and they don’t care because it’s just rain there. However, a mutual furry friend. Oh god, I called him a furry. Our mutual  _ fuzzy _  friend thought they were pretty and got like a massive bag which he was showing me last time The Guardians visited the planet.” Michelle says.

 

“You got space rubies from Rocket.” Peter translates.

 

It’s weird that they’ve swapped roles like this. Her being the rambler and him getting to the point. He’s just so impressed and madly in love with her right now.

 

“The white stone I made in a lab all by myself and I nameditafteryou.” She says.

 

He gapes at her and clutches his chest.

 

“Michelle. That is. Wow. That’s the most amazing romantic gesture ever. I can’t believe I’m so lucky.” There are tears rolling down his cheeks.

 

Her eyes are tear-y too, but she’ll deny it to everyone and say it’s just the hormones. He bumps their heads together and brings her in for a swaying hug.

 

Michelle takes a picture, “This is going on the ‘gram.” She says.

 

“We need to do a proper photoshoot.” He says, wiping his face.

 

They spend the next twenty minutes putting Peter in increasingly dramatic poses showing off his ring. (Slav squat on the piano, Vape Nation hands, jazz hands, sticks m legy out really far, Illuminati Confirmed) His favourite is of him wearing the Spidey glove with the ring over top, but they have to keep that one private.

 

The photos go up and they instantly get likes and comments. Liz goes through to like every single one and leaves a ‘Congrats! :D’.

 

A lot of his followers who read The Daily Bugle. They mostly just follow for his pictures of Spider-Man, so he laughs when he gets a lot of,

 

_ ‘Wtf, the guy who takes pictures of Spider-Man is actually really cute???’ _

 

_ ‘Not a good beard.’ _

 

_ ‘This is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen.’ _

 

_ ‘I don’t want your engagement photos! I want pictures of Spider-Man!’ _

 

He puts his phone away before he loses any more hours.

 

“What do you want for dinner? I’m cooking.” Peter says.

 

Because being benched means needing new hobbies and Rhodey is practically throwing cookbooks at him by this point. (He just uses Youtube tutorials. The books collect dust on the shelf.)

 

Michelle leans against the fridge as she thinks about it. He can’t look at the contents without moving her and she refuses to budge.

 

“Husband,” She begins and they both get all smiley, “Cook me… breakfast.”

 

He hugs her against the fridge.

 

“I wanted to try something fancy.” He grumbles.

 

“Then make me a hipster breakfast. So long as it has blueberry pancakes and sausage.” She says.

 

“I can fix that.” Peter says quietly.

 

“Don’t. Quote Holes. You’re gonna make me cry. My hormones are a mess.”

 

They eat breakfast in bed and watch Holes on the iPad later. Then he brushes his teeth and eats her out for like an hour because he’s heard that’s the customary ‘thank you’ for a big shiny engagement ring made of space rubies and Cubic Nerdconium.

 

No one asks him about the ring at work, but Tara’s a lot less touchy so he’s assuming it has the right effect.

 

Michelle visits for lunch, bringing him a bucket of chicken because she is a goddess. He leads her by the hand out to the cafeteria. Eating at their work stations is a good way to get fucked up powers or dead.

 

They bump into Tara who takes on look at Michelle, then at Peter, then squeaks.

 

“You’re Michelle Jones.” She says.

 

“Soon to be Michelle Jones-Parker.” Peter adds.

 

“I watched your TedTalk on ‘Intersectionality in a time of Super Science and Aliens’. Amazing. Live changing, even. Like, I just rambled about everything you said in my interview for this job.” Tara gushes.

 

Michelle rolls her lips. Her ears are turning pink and she just keeps nodding. Peter’s never seen her this flustered.

 

“What are you doing here? Are you going to be working with the lab?” Tara says.

 

That’s when she notices Peter, who waves with his left hand.

 

“Michelle, this is my coworker, Tara. Tara, you’ve heard of my fiance, Michelle.” Peter says.

 

“Oh, and that’s our unborn child.” He adds, pointing to Michelle’s baby bump.

 

Tara looks between them, then the baby, then back.

 

“I thought you were gay.” She says.

 

Peter points to himself questioningly, Michelle tilts her head.

 

“We’re both bi?” She says.

 

Tara nods hard.

 

“Sorry, I’m just like… mind blown. Like, when you know two people and had no idea that they interact with each other. Let alone have a child. It’s just like… bless. Thank you for reproducing. I’m gonna go be embarrassing somewhere else now. Excuse me.” Tara leaves in a hurry.

 

Peter blinks rapidly and Michelle starts to giggle.

 

“Oh, she is  _ adorable _ . Can we have her over for dinner?” Michelle says.

 

“I think she’d have a heart attack if we invited her.” Peter says.

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, new plan. I change my last name to Jones and we name our first child Tom.” Peter says.

 

Michelle rolls over to glare at him.

 

“Peter, you are not going to play ‘What’s New Pussycat’ while I’m giving birth. I have given specific instructions about this to multiple people.”

 

“It’s not an unusual request.” He says.

 

She groans, “I just had to marry a memer.”

 

Peter flips the page he’s on. (Tintin, all in French. Not one of the more racist ones, and it’s a good way to keep fluent in the language.)

 

“MJ, need I remind you that you were obsessed with this memer in school.” He says.

 

Michelle reaches up to play with his curls. He moves his arm to accommodate her cuddling his side while he reads.

 

“I utterly adore you, Peter Parker, and plan to keep adoring you for the rest of my life.” She says quietly.

 

He needs to put his comic down to kiss every part of her face. She scrunches her nose up in that cute way he loves.

 

“Read out loud. The baby likes the sound of your voice.” Michelle says.

 

“Can I do the voices?” He says.

 

“You’d better do the voices.”

 

Ned calls a few minutes later and Peter just leaves the phone on speaker while he keeps reading.

 

“I can’t understand French, but Captain Haddock sounds like your ‘AH’M SPIDUH MAN AND AH’M FROM NOO YAWWK’ voice.” Ned says.

 

Peter laughs and looks at Michelle. She’s snoring into his shoulder, looking like she’s getting her first good sleep in a while. The baby is an active one who likes krumping the moment Michelle hits the bed. Anything he can do to put them both to sleep is a win.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ned.” Peter whispers.

 

* * *

 

“Do you want to know the baby’s sex?” Bruce says.

 

He’s already doing tests on Peter that require Michelle present, so having an ultrasound is just two birds, one stone.

 

Michelle looks at Peter. Peter looks at Michelle.

 

“Sure.” They both say.

 

Bruce moves the wand down and points, “You are having a baby girl.”

 

“Or, however she chooses to express herself.” Michelle adds in quickly.

 

“Yeah, of course. But, biologically, the child has female reproductive organs.” Bruce says.

 

“Can we get these printed out? I wanna show May.” Peter says.

 

“Now we can’t name it Tom Jones.” Michelle says.

 

“Our baby can be Tom Jones if she wants. She can leave her friends behind.” Peter says.

 

Michelle swats his arm.

 

“Okay Peter. We’ve done a few of these stress tests already, but this is the first time we’ll have Michelle present. It gives us a lot more data.”

 

Bruce makes Peter lift massive amounts of weight with and without Michelle present.

 

“Isn’t it just a fact that having pretty girls around makes guys able to lift more?” Peter pants, putting down the car Bruce has him holding up.

 

“I gotta say, thank you for inviting me to this Bruce.” Michelle says.

 

She is blatantly admiring Peter’s muscles straining through his skin.

 

“You might not feel that way by the end.” He says.

 

As if on cue, the door slams open and an armed gunman enters, gun at the ready and pointed at Bruce.

 

The car lands on him.

 

Peter’s still panting, eyes wild and fists clenching and unclenching. He sucks in a breath and notices sparks flying out of the car. The gunman’s arm twitches, makes a mechanical noise, then stops.

 

Michelle covers her mouth, “Holy shit.”

 

“It’s just a robot. Just a robot!” Bruce says.

 

He jogs over to the car and subsequently damaged wall. Bruce cringes as he lifts one of the gunman-bot’s legs, completely severed from its torso.

 

Peter takes a gulp of air and sits down.

 

“That could have been a human person.” He says shakily.

 

“Did you think about any of that, or was it just instinct?” Bruce says.

 

“It has live rounds in the chamber! I heard it. Those weren’t rubber bullets, Bruce.” Peter says.

 

“We knew we wouldn’t be able to get accurate results from keeping the kid gloves on. James wanted to volunteer… I’m sure he’s glad he didn’t know. I figured you’d recognize his footsteps, but he said you could never be sure he wasn’t brainwashed.” Bruce says.

 

Michelle pushes past Bruce to grab Peter and help him off the floor.

 

“We’re done.” She says.

 

Peter follows her up, still breathing harshly.

 

Bruce finally tunes in, “Yeah. We’re done. I’m sorry. We… we needed to know. We know now.”

 

They don’t say anything on the ride home. Peter dissociates in the front seat while Michelle listens to NPR.

 

When they get back to the apartment, Peter disappears into the bathroom. Momo sits at the door meowing at him.

 

He can hear Michelle on the phone with her mother in the other room. He’s dragging the bladed edge of his razor down his face in long strokes.

 

(“Okay, now that our pores are all open and warm, it’s time to shave. You got enough cream on you, Pete?” Ben says.

 

Peter is thirteen years old and standing on his toes to see the mirror. Ben moves out of the way.

 

“This seems like a lot of effort for first thing in the morning.” Peter says.

 

“You get faster at it as you practice. Plus, I like to take a little time in the morning for shaving. It’s like meditation.” Ben says, “Quickly now, we shave with the grain, pulling the skin taught as we go.”

 

Peter feels like he’s just following the motions. He takes off a lot of foam, not much else.

 

Then there’s a splash of blood running down his cheek. He makes a noise.

 

“Easy, easy. That’s what a little bit of toilet paper’s for. It takes practice. I’m told the ladies find scars sexy. I know boys do.” Ben wiggles his eyebrows.

 

Peter laughs and ducks his head at that. His crush on his classmate, Elliott came up during dinner last night.

 

Ben sticks a little pad of toilet paper to Peter’s cheek.

 

“Good job, Bud.” He says.)

 

Peter washes the swirls of red and brown hair go down the drain. He pats his face dry then gets the moisturizer off the shelf.

 

The ritual grounds him back in his body. He needs to blink a few times to recognize himself in the mirror. Maybe he should shave his head too?

 

Then Michelle wouldn’t be able to play with his hair. Peter takes a deep breath and leaves the bathroom.

 

“Thank you. Our daughter just death dropped my bladder and I was just about to kick down the door.” Michelle rushes past him and closes the door.

 

So much for his big reveal. He sits at the kitchen table and Momo jumps onto his lap. Peter pats a path from Momo’s heard to his back and repeats the motion.

 

Michelle exits the bathroom and sits down opposite Peter.

 

“That was fucked up.” She says.

 

He nods, “It was fucked up. I could kill someone.”

 

Michelle sighs through her nose, “Peter, they have killbots prepared for you.”

 

Peter frowns at that.

 

Michelle puts her hand on his knee, “Trust no bitch that makes killbots.”

 

“But, I’m a legitimate threat.” Peter says.

 

“Why does no one want to question it when Tony Stark is all, ‘I have a different way to kill each of my friends! But, I won’t use it because my friends are my family! Oops, here’s Ultron’.” She laughs a little hysterically.

 

Peter stares at her.

 

“Or! How about that time SHIELD turned out to be filled with a Nazi death cult! That had controlled missiles to kill everyone capable of interrupting the status quo?! Nat showed me the list. We were on it, Peter!” He has never heard her voice get this high.

 

“It’s kind of an honour to be on the hit list of HYDRA. It’s when you know you’re doing the right thing.” Peter says.

 

“I’m actually glad that you are terrifyingly strong because the number of things out there that can and will kill you is  _ a lot.  _ It’s like your body is just tired of you not being aware of that and taking control.” Michelle wipes at her eyes.

 

Peter chews on his words, “I could have killed that man. He was bleeding out in minus twelve degrees. If the cops hadn’t got there…”

 

“You’re not a murderer, Peter.” Michelle says.

 

“Tell that to Tony’s robot.” Peter says.

 

“People have been trying to kill you since you were fifteen years old and you have never dealt with that. I’ve seen the scars, bandaged you up, kissed your tears when the nightmares get bad, and kept quiet. I knew that saying anything would just alienate you. So, I held my tongue as I watched you go out there and try to prove that you were good by getting killed. Again, and again, and again.”

 

Peter covers his mouth with both hands and stares at the table.

 

She’s wrong.

 

“I don’t want to die.” He says.

 

“Ben’s death wasn’t your fault.” Michelle looks him in the eye.

 

“Objectively, it was. I saw the guy with the gun and I let him go. If-if-if I had done something. If I had stopped him.” Peter feels his chest going tight.

 

She grabs his hand, “That man had a choice to kill someone or not that day. He made the choice to kill Ben. You are not responsible for the acts of murder made by others. Every day people live their lives in this city and murders happen, those murders aren’t the faults of the people who are working at Subway or whatever just because they don’t do vigilante justice.”

 

He’s had this conversation with May at therapy probably a dozen times now, but this time it actually cuts through the buzzing in his ears. He usually says ‘I know’ and ‘I don’t blame myself anymore’ to get people off his back.

 

“You’re going to be a father in five months. You need to get this shit together and put it to bed.” Michelle says.

 

Peter nods and leans across the table to headbutt her arm.

 

“I’m sorry.” He says.

 

“Come here.” She says.

 

He gets up and allows her to pull him onto her lap. He doesn’t know how long they stay like that just breathing together, his head resting against hers. The chair creaks.

 

“Okay, my thighs are going numb.” She says.

 

Peter gets up and feels all of his joints pop.

 

“I’m craving Melona ice cream bars. Husband, fetch.” She says, effectively giving him a chance to go out and clear his head.

 

“On it.” He kisses her cheek.

 

* * *

 

 

“This wedding planner looks pretty cool. Her blurb says she’s here for couples who want minimal involvement in the planning stage.” Peter is lying on the couch with his laptop on his chest.

 

“Peter! Why aren’t you dressed? We have to stop and cider and my dad’s house is in Jersey.” Her voice is going up at the ends of her sentences.

 

Peter closes his laptop and hops up.

 

“You told me to get this done today.” He says.

 

She closes her eyes and rubs her temples, “Yeah, but not right before we have to leave.”

 

“Sorry.” He says.

 

“Do you need to shower?” She sighs.

 

“Nah, I showered last night.” He shouts from their room.

 

He even wears dress socks because Michelle’s dad is the squarest man he’s ever met, and he knows Vision. Peter pulls on a sweater vest and does the top button of his shirt up.

 

Michelle’s waiting by the door.

 

“You look nice.” He says.

 

He kisses her cheek and she does smile, but it’s strained.

 

The drive to Jersey is tense and the end up raising their voices in a grocery store parking lot because she will just. Not. Stop. Nitpicking. They take an emotional knee after that and listen to The Killers super loud. (They end up singing along to Runaway and smiling at each other.)

 

Peter never looks forward to visiting David Jones because every interaction they have is:

 

_ “Peter, you are too much of a weenie to be dating my super cool daughter.” _

 

(And, yeah, but Peter is KING WEENIE, thank you very much and there is no one living or dead who is cool enough for Michelle. ((Except T'Challa, but give Peter a break.)))

 

This time the interaction is:

 

_ “I am resigned to the fact that, known weenie, Peter Parker has impregnated my super cool daughter. I will now spend the whole evening asking passive aggressive questions about the wedding.” _

 

The drive back to Queens has never felt so short.

 

In comparison, visiting Michelle’s mother is a vacation. Octavia is warm and funny and always feeding Peter more sweet potato pie. Michelle’s brother and sister give him weird looks while they poke her pregnant belly, but that’s totally fair.

 

Then, it’s December 26th and the Parker family’s turn at Christmas. It snows like crazy the night before and Peter gives up on getting through the front door. They enter through the window.

 

“Way too fucking pregnant for this.” Michelle grunts, once inside.

 

They leave their boots by the heater in the kitchen and wander into the living room to find Ned and Rhodey already on the couch talking about  _ anime  _ of all things.

 

“So, he can beat anyone in one punch? Then what’s the point? There’s no source of tension.” Rhodey says.

 

“Well, it started out as a satire, but the anime found its rhythm by introducing stronger and stronger foes.” Ned says.

 

“See, I was stationed in Okinawa back in ‘87. Watched a lot of Dragon Ball. It wasn’t about the super powers, it was about the adventures… and jokes. Tried watching Dragon Ball Z and it’s all episodes of fighting. Gets boring.” Rhodey says.

 

Peter feels like he’s been given some kind of crazy pill. He looks to Michelle for a reality check and she has her phone out recording.

 

May comes in with mountains of Italian baked goods and they gorge themselves into sugar comas watching Doctor Who.

 

Rhodey, Ned, and Peter end up making dinner while May and MJ look at wedding planners.

 

After dinner, Peter ends up on the couch with Rhodey looking through their viewing options.

 

“Okay, how is Naruto? I remember it was super popular like five years ago?” Rhodey says.

 

“More like twenty years ago, it’s got like a bajillion episodes.” Peter says.

 

“Oo they have the original Ghost in the Shell.” Rhodey glances at him, “You look like you don’t wanna watch anime. How about… Farscape?” He says.

 

Peter flinches in an unaccustomed way.

 

“Uh, I was watching it with Ben.” He says lightly.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah. Haven’t watched it since.” Peter says.

 

There’s a tense air between them.

 

“What was he like? May talks around him but never about him.” Rhodey says.

 

“He, uh, well… He used to fix the rides down at Coney Island, then he moved on to fixing cars here in Queens.” Peter says.

 

He doesn’t look at Rhodey, he looks at his hands while he talks and it all just sorta comes pouring out.

 

“He and May met at a Berlin Wall rally. He was a punk. Really into anti-fascist counter-culture. She was more of a neo-hippie. They both liked The Ramones. ‘Cause, The Ramones were from Queens too. He showed me how to take things apart and fix them. He wasn’t good at a single sport. He only liked weird ice cream flavours like pistachio. He always bought the newspaper, because he liked to support a free press.”

 

When Peter looks up he sees May standing in the kitchen. He swallows hard.

 

“I miss him every day.” He finishes.

 

May leans on the back of the couch to kiss the top of his head. She pauses to sniff his hair, the way she always does because she says it smells like sunshine.

 

Rhodey grabs her free hand and squeezes.

 

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Peter.” He says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanfiction is funfiction until it's 2 in the afternoon, you're supposed to be writing your novel, and instead you're crying about Ben Parker.
> 
> References:  
> Aqua - Doctor Jones  
> Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Arc - Love You eyelids  
> Tintin - Great comics, bad old time-y racism!  
> Cabin in the Woods - Babyproofing cupboards  
> Fast and the Furious series - Fambly  
> Vape Nation - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dkm8Hteeh6M  
> Various memes - http://knowyourmeme.com


	3. Third Trimester Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D&D, Michelle's birthday, the trouble with Harry, and Flash is gay. Also, fuck Stop and Frisk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I broke up part three into two pieces because it's huge and I crave validation. Which is pretty par for the course with this fic. I'm playing fast and loose with comic canon because fanfiction is my sandbox and there are no rules. Harry Osborn's hair makes 100% more sense if he is a POC. 
> 
> This chapter gets a bit sexier because why not. 
> 
> (Michelle got knocked up in late July-ish. These chapters do not split into trimesters well.)
> 
> (I made Michelle a cusp Capricorn-Aquarius for anyone who likes to follow that sort of thing.)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's taken the time to comment so far. You are the wind beneath my wings.

“Parker, I’m getting really tired of you cockblocking me during Game Night.”

 

“Watson, I’m getting really tired of you trying to fuck my wife.”

 

Ned snorts into his can of Dr. Pepper and shoots them both a dirty look as he has to get up and clean soda off himself and his dice.

 

Michelle just rolls her eyes.

 

“Peter, stop appropriating beta cuck culture.” Harry says, not looking up from his phone.

 

Michelle and Liz boo and throw popcorn at him. He catches a few pieces in his mouth.

 

They’re all packed into Liz’s kitchen. She has the biggest house that isn’t a Manhattan penthouse (Harry) and isn’t covered in action figures and tools (Ned). No, Liz’s house, like every other part of her life (minus communication with her dad and that whole chapter of her youth) is immaculate. Peter feels a little bit like Pizza Rat chilling in the Ritz.

 

It’s amazing how long they’ve managed to sustain this D&D group all things considered. Peter’s too much of a flake (read: Spider-Man) to show up regularly, so he has a guest starring character. Sweeny, the necromancer who always needs help retrieving some kind of skeleton for money. (He low key based that off the apparent Literal Dragon Bones under New York that Danny told him about. Matt has since confirmed and mentioned, as casually as one can, that his girlfriend uses the bones for her ‘life sauce’.)

 

But, he’s been at the past three games and Sweeny is not fun in big doses, so he’s rolling a new character.

 

Liz, who finds Dungeons and Dragons rapturous for her need to micromanage everything, is their DM. Michelle helps out with building the campaign’s story, but they’re all pretty good at doing improv with each other anyway.

 

Surprisingly, the whole thing was Mary Jane’s idea back in college. She wanted to get better at character building and staying in a long term role, so she recruited anyone who said, ‘Yes’ for their game. (They’ve lost Gwen and Cindy since then, but gained Harry who has been considered Peter’s Responsibility since he was the normie who got dragged into it. ((Harry is an outlier of the group, but as much as he projects the rich frat boy persona a-la Flash Thompson, Harry is An Ally. He found Peter shivering, mostly naked, and bruised in an alleyway and made perfectly rational assumptions based on the evidence given. Harry took Peter in, gave him some pajamas and coffee and offered to drive him to the hospital. Told him not to shower because the cops could get whoever did it’s DNA off him. Peter came up with a story about sleepwalking and falling off a fire escape, but to this day, he doesn’t think Harry bought it.)))

 

Peter’s phone pings. Mary Jane has sent the group chat another jorts meme.

 

Ned snorts through his drink again and sighs, giving up on not being sticky. 

 

“I can’t believe you guys are the first of us to have kids,” Mary Jane says, “My money was on Lizard and Hairy.”

 

“That would require Elizabeth accepting my proposal.” Harry says.

 

Liz shrugs, “I dunno, Osborn, I’m still waiting to see if Sasha Obama is into girls.”

 

Harry throws his hands up, “Can’t compete with that.”

 

“That’s because you still have this weird illusion that Peter and MJ don’t have sex.” Ned says, sending a jlip jlops meme back.

 

Mary Jane looks at Peter on one end of the table and Michelle on the other, then down at Michelle’s pregnant belly.

 

“Like, I was going with immaculate conception, not gonna lie.” Mary Jane says.

 

“You trying to neg us into a threesome isn’t going to work, Mary Jane.” Michelle says.

 

She rests her chin on her hand and pouts, “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

 

Mary Jane has this low cut teal top on that brings out the green of her eyes and she has an unlit cigarette dangling between her lips. Peter’s shutter finger is itching at the sight. His mantra is still ‘don’t be creepy’, so he resists the temptation.

 

Peter moves Michelle’s feet off his lap so he can get up and grab another orange soda.

 

Mostly, he just wants some space. (When he and Mary Jane met it was one of those, ‘Oh, there you are. I didn’t know I was looking for you.’ encounters. On both sides. They’ve talked about it at length when drunk. They figure they were probably married in a past life. Mary Jane likes to wax hypotheticals about what caused their downfall. A deal with the devil? The will of a sad, middle aged man? Who knows.)

 

They’re friends. If they had met at another time, before he knew Michelle, maybe his life would be very different.

 

He looks at his friends. Liz has her hand on Michelle’s belly as she checks some calculations. Ned’s still trying to find a good ‘Campaign Mix’ on youtube. Mary Jane and Harry are outside for a smoke break. Michelle looks up at him and sticks her tongue out. He puffs his cheeks back in response.

 

He loves this. He wouldn’t trade what he has here for any hypothetical.

 

“Husband, fetch me more tea.” Michelle says.

 

Liz has a whole tea making set up. An infuser and a kettle that only gets to a certain temperature. Michelle salivates over it every time they visit. (They have their own drawer of different teas and accessories at the house. It’s not like she’s deprived.)

 

“What kind do you want, Wife?” He says.

 

“Sea Monkey makes me have this intense craving for white tea.” Michelle shares with the rest of the class.

 

(They re-watched Juno recently and picked up the nickname for the baby. He also gave her puppy eyes until she reassured him that he does not look like Michael Cera.)

 

“Do you want white tea peach or white tea pear?” Peter says.

 

“Surprise me.” Michelle says.

 

(He makes white tea pear because he wants to try some, so he’ll just steal a sip from her cup.)

 

Peter brings Michelle a tea cup using Liz’s sloth shaped infuser.

 

“That one’s my favourite too.” Liz says.

 

Peter sits back down next to Ned and digs his whole hand into the party mix. Ned slings his arm over the back of Peter’s chair and Peter leans into his friend’s side.

 

“Did Harry really propose to you?” Peter says.

 

He knows they’ve dated casually, but not much more than that. He and Liz are ancient history, but they’re not the types of friends to talk about their love lives with each other. (Michelle is The Exception, because they’re both her best friends, so of course they talk about her.)

 

Liz makes a noise and leans back in her chair, hand thrown over her face.

 

“He made a pass at it. Said we’d be a good match of money and influence. That we’re two beautiful bi-racial babes destined for greatness and he’s ready to be the First Man of the United States.” She groans.

 

Michelle tilts her head and raises an eyebrow at Peter and he can read everything in that glance. (Liz actually  _ likes  _ Harry, but she’s not sure if he’s stable. He has this loyalty and charisma that reminds her of her dad and she doesn’t want a repeat of that relationship. At the same time, Harry has money in a way Liz  _ doesn’t anymore.  _ The financial stability alone might make it worth it so she can focus on her career.)

 

Peter rolls his lips and nods.

 

“I can see why you’re not sure.” He says.

 

Liz looks between him and Michelle and does that wrinkled forehead thing.

 

“See, I don’t think I’m gonna be sure about anyone until I can do what you two just did.” She says.

 

“You and Michelle do that all the time. Your friend telepathy is scary.” Ned says.

 

“Jealous, Leeds?” Michelle says, kissing Liz’s cheek. Liz’s stress lines disappear.

 

“Not at all. Me and Peter are the best at bro-lepathy. What am I thinking?” He says.

 

Peter fishes a pretzel out of the party mix and feeds it to Ned, “I love my friends.” He says.

 

Ned crunches down on a pretzel and nods.

 

“Not fair, Ned’s always thinking that.” Liz says with a laugh.

 

The door to the balcony opens and in pop the cold versions of Harry and Mary Jane.

 

“Let’s crawl a dungeon, motherfuckers!” Mary Jane shouts.

 

* * *

 

Peter hates himself at the ass end of five in the morning when his phone buzzes him awake. He groans and rolls over to stare at Michelle. Her iconic frown is gone in sleep. There’s even a little humour in the natural quirk of her lips. The weak late January light coming in through the window gets caught in the natural highlights of brown and blonde in her hair. She’s got sleep marks on her cheek and an arm stuck under his pillow.

 

He takes a few pictures with his phone because there is no such thing as having too many photos of his sleeping wife. He grins at that,  _ his wife _ . (The wedding’s been pushed to March, but that’s just making it official in the eyes of the law and the tax man. He married her the moment she said she asked him.)

 

Michelle Jones. The grump from homeroom who once tripped a kid in Marching Band for breaking Peter’s glasses. And that was before he even noticed her. (She told him that story in an all night Denny’s after prom.) At fourteen, Peter didn’t know yet, that the tall girl with the dry sense of humour and the black Nike socks was the girl he was gonna marry, but she always knew. She’s perceptive like that.

 

Peter rubs his nose along the underside of her arm.

 

“Mmn, done staring at me, Creep?” She says without opening her eyes.

 

“Damn it, Michelle. I was trying to be all romantic and wake you up.” He huffs.

 

“Don’t quit your day job.” She says, opening her eyes into that cranky squint he so adores.

 

“I can’t, I already quit my night job.” He says, propping his chin up on his palm.

 

She mirrors his position, “Why are you up early, anyway?” She says.

 

“It’s your birthday,” He says, leaning in for a morning breath kiss, “Happy Birthday.”

 

Michelle bites Peter’s lower lip for a little heat. He moans and pushes her nightgown up and around the baby bump.

 

“Where do you want me?” He says.

 

She pushes his pajama bottoms off and pulls him between her thighs. Peter groans at the contact,

 

“On your back, hands around the slats.” She says into the ear she bites.

 

(It’s a compromise of his desires and triggers. He likes the loss of control, but can’t be bound or pinned without having anxiety.(( Even his own webbing causes him to dissociate at best and hyperventilate at worst.)) Peter trusts Michelle not to leave him tied up or smother him, but his brain shuts down and goes into freeze mode. The psychological game of her telling him not to touch  _ does work _ . His hands stay free, bound by her will and his.) 

 

Her nails rake down his chest while she rides him. She has her eyes lidded, maintaining eye contact. She moves one hand to squeeze his wrist.

 

“How are you doing?” She says, a little breathless.

 

“Really enjoying the view.” He says.

 

He has one hand on her hip, the other between her legs helping her orgasm along. His thumb sweeps back and forth on her clit. She finishes with a stuttering huff and Peter follows, his whole chest tensing up, then ending with a sneeze.

 

“Did you just sneeze when you came?” She says.

 

“Shut up, they’re connected sometimes.” He says.

 

She lowers herself so that she’s cuddling his chest.

 

“Whatever you say, Goofus,” Then, “Thanks for the morning birthday sex.”

 

“Mmn, any time. I was thinking we could go to the aquarium today.” He says.

 

“That requires getting out of bed.” Michelle groans, pulling the covers around them tighter.

 

Their apartment is draughty even with the curtains pulled closed and plastic on the windows.

 

“We can break in the tub.” Peter suggests.

 

“That’s a good idea. Hot water, some warm grape juice I can pretend is wine, you, and a good book. That’s all I need for my birthday.” She says casually.

 

Her blunt affection always makes his heart squeeze.

 

Michelle actually does the calculations of water displacement while filling the tub. Peter hems and haws over lavender salt or grapefruit scented bubble bath. 

 

They have to do some human Tetris to get the best configuration for sharing the tub. They end up spooning with his back to her front and the Sea Monkey between them. The baby comes alive with the warm water and he feels some tiny kicking against his bare back.

 

Peter giggles and turns around to run his fingers over the skin and feels a foot stretching out.

 

“That is so cool.” He says just above a whisper.

 

“I’m torn between having xenomorph related anxiety and just being glad to know that she’s active in there.” Michelle says.

 

Peter rests his chin on her bump and looks up at her.

 

“What do you mean?” He says.

 

Michelle takes a sip of her not-wine, “It’s stupid.”

 

“Try me.” Peter says.

 

“Ned mentioned like… a spider nest of babies when we first started trying and now I can’t unthink that. I’ve had like three nightmares about it.” She mumbles.

 

“You have?” Peter says, sitting up, “You’re so quiet when you sleep.”

 

“Not everyone thrashes during nightmares.” Michelle says.

 

He reaches for her free hand and tangles their fingers, “I’m sorry about the spider babies thing. That’s scary and fucked up.”

 

“Spiders? In my vagina? It’s more likely than you’d think.” Michelle says.

 

Peter snorts.

 

They do end up going to the aquarium. Peter takes pictures of Michelle back lit by bio-luminescent jellyfish. They take a few selfies of them eating ice cream in front of the penguins and seals for social media purposes. Peter sets one of Michelle kissing his cheek as his phone wallpaper.

 

“Delete that. It’s evidence.” She says.

 

“Evidence of what? Affection?” Peter says.

 

“Yep.” Michelle says.

 

“Too late. It’s on the ‘gram.” Peter says.

 

Michelle groans and does a sulky shimmy. Peter takes a video of that and sends it to the group chat.

 

Ned replies with the appropriate Emma Roberts gif. 

 

They walk hand in hand through the penguin exhibit. The BBC Earth documentary on penguins they watched in biology class taught them that penguins don’t squawk so much as they yell. Peter and Michelle yell at the penguins to try and communicate until a staff member shoots them a dirty look. 

 

“So, I got you two presents. One isn’t really a birthday present, but something overdue.” Peter says. 

 

They’ve looped back around so that they’re at the rays and shark tank. Peter digs into his pocket and pulls out a ring box.

 

“If you get on one knee in this public place I will be forced to kick you in the face.” Michelle says.

 

“Relax.” Peter says, opening the box and handing it to her.

 

Michelle swallows hard, eyes barely leaking as she looks at the ring inside.

 

“Now, it’s not space rubies and a rock I named after you, but the gold and diamonds were mined in Canada and the ring was bought from a nice Northwest Territories woman on Etsy. It's not like, the most environmentally awesome ring, but it's otherwise ethical?” Peter finishes lamely.

 

Michelle can’t hide the brightness of her smile. She chuckles and elbows Peter.

 

“Shut up, I love it,” Michelle says, “Put it on me.”

 

Peter’s fingers shake a bit as he slips the ring on.

 

“Now we match.” He says, putting his left hand over hers.

 

The metal clinks together. He laughs, his eyes feeling a little wet. Michelle turns her head to kiss his temple, then lets her face rest there.

 

He likes looking down and seeing a ring on his finger. He can’t wait for it to be a gold band, not that he doesn’t want to wear the engagement ring, he just gets nervous about it in terms of Spider-Man-ing. He doesn’t want to lose something so precious fighting crime. 

 

There are other precious things he doesn’t want to lose to that as well. Stuff like his humanity.

 

“Love you, Possum.” Michelle whispers.

 

He lets her get away with that one.

 

“Love you, Michael Jordan.” He says.

 

* * *

 

“You’d better record everything.” He says with his arms folded.

 

“I’m gonna be gone for one day, Peter. Liz will be there, and if I go into early labour, we’ll only be in DC.” Michelle says.

 

He keeps pouting.

 

She unfolds his arms to hug him.

 

“You can have some kind of male bonding exercise with Harry and Ned or something. Maybe go upstate and chill with The Avengers. We don’t have to see each other every day.” She says.

 

That’s a lie that she catches herself in and bites her lip. Even when they’re apart they’re constantly texting or sending each other stupid Snapchat videos.

 

“Oh, and you gotta pick up the invitations.” She adds.

 

“I thought Pepper was taking care of the wedding stuff.” He says.

 

(Pepper, who does not have a mom-themed nickname, ((Like how Nat is Spider-Mom, Karen is Suit-Mom, Mary was Mom Prime (((he jokes about that nickname, but while she was alive she was just “Mom”. Now, if he goes to picture her it’s just a fuzzy image that might be a memory and might be a fabrication.))), May is Mom 2: Electric Boogaloo, and Octavia is Mother of Wife)) heard about their difficulties in mustering enough of a fuck to plan their wedding and rolled her eyes as she added it to her massive list of things to delegate to other people.

 

“Do you have any specifications at all?” She said.

 

“Uhh… I want the colour scheme to be light pinks and blues.” Peter said.

 

“Momofuku cake, Swedish Fish in little bowls, fairy lights, and our first dance has to be eighteen minutes of static.” Michelle says.

 

Pepper raised a brow, “Is that a band?”

 

Peter elbowed Michelle, “She was joking about the last one. Just get us a DJ and we’ll send them the mix.”

 

“Okay. Do you have a dress and tuxedo picked out? Colour scheme for the bridesmaids?” Pepper said.

 

“Ugh, bridesmaids.” Michelle stuck her tongue out.

 

“No bridesmaids.” Pepper added to the list.

 

“Can we just have variations of pasta for the menu?” Peter said.

 

Michelle nodded hard, “Yeah, pasta bar.”

 

He could tell that Pepper was exhausted just talking to Millennials, or Gen Z’s, whatever the fuck they are.)

 

Peter wakes up to a soft kiss on the brow at dawn. Michelle’s already dressed, showered, and on her way out the door.

 

“We’ll give you updates from the road.” She says against his cheek.

 

“Tell Liz that if anything happens to you then I’ll forgive her, but our friendship will never recover.” Peter says, still mumbly from sleep.

 

“Okay, love you. I’ll text you when we get there.”

 

“Love you too.” He yawns.

 

Then she’s gone and he wakes up a second time at nine. Momo has replaced Michelle at her side of the bed. Peter pulls the cat closer for cuddles, but Momo worms away and drops off the side of the bed.

 

“Fine, fuck you too, Cat.” Peter says, sitting up.

 

He has the day off and he’s thinking of going into work anyway. It’s nice to be able to openly test his Spider-Suit upgrades, but he gets bored of webbing equations after an hour.

 

Instead, he finds himself learning that his love of vanilla ice cream and jelly beans means that he should vacation in Bali on a Buzzfeed quiz. Getting a text from Mary Jane prevents his whole productivity from going to shit.

 

**Last Dance With:** hey pb   
**Peterbutter:** what’s up?

**Last Dance With:** ntm, bored lol

**Last Dance With:** wanna hang out?

**Peterbutter:** sure! :) wanna help me pick up the wedding invites?

**Last Dance With:** LET’S DO IT

**Peterbutter:** :D

 

The shop’s in Brooklyn, which happens to be where Mary Jane lives (in a tiny apartment colder than his and MJ’s. Most of her furniture is stacks of crates and she has like a billion abandoned coffee mugs as decorations.), so she looks not nearly as soggy as he does when he meets her at the Church Avenue station. 

 

Mary Jane puts her cigarette as he approaches.

 

“Hey Puppy.” She says.

 

He smiles tightly at that. He knows she says it’s because he reminds her of a small dog that they give to anxious children. It’s just that he’s read American Gods and associates that nickname with dead wives and prison.

 

They could walk to the shop, but the ice layer on the sidewalk is pretty thick so they take the bus.

 

“What talk is MJ giving?” Mary Jane says.

 

“It’s for a poli sci course on Sokovia and all of the legal followings.” Peter says, grabbing the stop cord.

 

“I don’t even understand like any of that, but when she talks about it I’m just like… whisper your secrets to me you majestic truth goddess.” Mary Jane says, following him off the bus.

 

Peter laughs, “Yeah, I feel that way all the time.”

 

The shop is between a laundromat and a record shop and the line is way too huge for a Sunday. Peter grits his teeth because lineups are like crowded subway cars and slow moving crowds in that they trigger his anxiety and PTSD. 

 

Mary Jane must sense it because she goes into entertainer mode by pulling out her phone to Snapchat Liz and MJ. 

 

The man ahead of them in line turns around and shouts,

 

“Pen-Peter frickin’ Parker. How’ve you been, Man?” 

 

Flash friggin’ Thompson moves in for a hug and Peter accepts it awkwardly. Okay, unexpected.

 

“Damn, Man, you’ve been keeping it tight.” Flash says, slapping Peter’s shoulder.

 

“Thanks, I’ve been good, Flash. How about you?” Peter winces at the contact.

 

“Flash? Oh man, no one’s called me that in years.” Flash laughs, and scratches his head.

 

“Sorry, what do you prefer? Eugene?” Peter says.

 

“Just Gene. What about you? I heard you were at MIT, so I’m surprised to see you here.” Gene says.

 

“I got accepted at MIT, but come on, Boston? If I leave New York my body starts to deteriorate.” Peter says.

 

Gene laughs, “Tell me about it. My boyfriend’s from Massachusetts and he can shit-talk it for hours.”

 

Peter owes Michelle twenty bucks. She called Flash liking boys back in Sophomore year. In hindsight, yeah, the nicknames and ass slapping make sense.

 

Mary Jane clears her throat and Peter stumbles over himself, “Oh yeah, this is Mary Jane. Mary Jane, this is Gene Thompson. We went to school together.” His eyes are screaming.

 

Just Gene says, “AcaDec Champs!”

 

Turns out, Gene’s on Wall Street now and picking up some business cards. Mary Jane looks like it’s Christmas as she smooths her hair back and adopts a smarmy tone.

 

“Look at that subtle off-white colour, the tasteful thickness of it, oh my god… it even has a watermark.” She says.

 

Peter giggles. Gene looks at her, then Peter, then frowns.

 

“That’s from American Psycho, right?” He says.

 

Peter films her next few lines on Snapchat and sends them to Michelle. She opens it right away and replies with a,

 

**Michelle:** lmao is that flash?

 

Then sends a video of her and Liz singing along to TLC’s Waterfalls in the car.

 

“So, what are you two picking up?” Gene says.

 

“Uh, wedding invitations.” Peter says.

 

“Oh. Congratulations.” He says.

 

“Thanks.” Peter says.

 

“Oh, no, not for me. I’m just chaperoning him. He’s marrying his girlfriend of like fifty years.” Mary Jane laughs in a way that’s both fake and pained.

 

Peter can feel Gene’s eyes move between them.

 

“So, you and Michelle patched things up? That’s good. Always felt like you guys were like… soulmates or something.” 

 

Oh yeah, he was still talking to Gene in college (back when he was Flash and asking Peter for advice with girls ((Chicken nuggets and eating pussy. It’s not that fucking hard, Eugene.))) when he and Michelle had their eight month break. 

 

They finally reach the front of the line and Gene gets his business cards the same time Peter signs for the invites. He can feel Mary Jane recording him from behind, so her sneak flips her off.

 

“I’m on the phone with your wife.” She says.

 

He turns around to see that, yes, she is Snapchatting MJ. He throws up a peace sign then darts his tongue between his fingers.

 

“Ooo! I’m setting that as your contact image.” She says.

 

Peter waves ‘bye’ to Gene and takes the deceptively cumbersome box of invitations under his arm. Mary Jane follows him out of the store doing the Patrick Bateman ‘Hip to Be Square’ shuffle. (Her swishy jacket is perfect for it.)

 

He checks the group chat and sees two pages of Liz and Ned sending cute animal gifs back and forth.(1-800 ARE YOU SLAPPING?) Liz and Michelle are safely in DC and at their respective events now.

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you two things.” Mary Jane says.

 

Peter looks at her feeling his anxiety flare up.

 

“I’ll start with the scary one. Have you noticed Harry being… off lately? He’s been like paranoid one moment and the next he’s texting me to come to a party downtown at like one AM and I am concern.” She says, checking the bus schedule.

 

“Is he still using?” Peter says.

 

“He said he was cutting back, but I doubt it. It’s why Liz dumped him.” Mary Jane says.

 

“I’ll talk to him.” Peter sighs.

 

“Okay. Now the other thing. Can we mayyybe take the fun way home?” She gives him a pleading grin.

 

“How would I even… I’m not wearing the suit?” Peter says.

 

Mary Jane rolls her eyes and pokes his backpack, “I know you always keep it in here just in case.”

 

He hasn’t been out swinging in weeks and he honestly misses it. He’s not going to engage with any criminals, so he isn’t technically un-benching himself. And, they are finished with the tests. Which is how long he was supposed to be benched for.

 

“Okay.” He says.

 

She puts his backpack on afterwards, invitations carefully tucked away.

 

“Ready?” He says.

 

“Ready!” She wraps her arms around his neck.

 

Spider-Man swings them up onto the nearest apartment and surveys the area for a path. Karen chimes in.

 

“Routing directions to Mary-Jane’s apartment.”

 

“Thanks, Karen.” He says.

 

“Receiving call from, Tony Stark.” Karen says.

 

Peter sighs.

 

“Hey, Pete. Just checking in. See that the Spider Tracker is on. Everything okay?” Tony says.

 

“Yeah, just taking Mary Jane home.” Peter says.

 

“Receiving call from James Rhodes.” Karen says.

 

“Rhodey!”

 

“Tony. Everything okay, Peter?” Rhodey says.

 

“For fuck’s sake.” Peter mutters.

 

“Receiving call from May Parker.” Karen says.

 

“Oh my god!”

 

Peter drops Mary Jane off in an alley two blocks from her house. She’s all windswept and smiley.

 

“Thanks for the ride Peebs.” She says.

 

He watches her go, following until he sees her safely inside of her house.

 

Well, time to go home.

 

He’s already in the suit.

 

He’ll just help anyone who looks like they’re in need on the way home. Backpack on, Peter swings through Brooklyn until he spots a little boy crying in the street. He drops down to help. Turns out the kid is lost and can’t find his mom. Peter calms him down and they sit on the bench together until a terrified looking woman comes jogging down the street.

 

“Oh my god, thank you. Thank you.” She hugs her son.

 

“I was in the neighbourhood.” Spider-Man says.

 

A lost woman spots him and asks for directions. He’s not as familiar with Brooklyn as he is with Harlem and Queens, but he does manage to get her to the Subway station she needs.

 

Next he encounters a puppy stuck in a storm drain. He’s gentle with the web as he pulls it out. It’s filthy and shivering. He can’t find any tags or tattoos on it.

 

Oh no.

 

It’s licking his wrist.

 

He can hear Michelle’s stern voice saying, ‘Parker, we have a cat and a baby on the way. We do not need a dog.’

 

So, instead, he snaps a picture and sends it to everyone with, ‘who wants this dog?’. It’s a good dog and very patient, because Peter is carrying it under his arm, at a loss of how to transport it. At least three people will kill him if he gets his wedding invitations covered in wet dog and mud. He digs through his backpack and finds his emergency towel is still there and hidden under a mountain of granola bars (he really needs to clean his backpack out). He swaddles the puppy and stuffs it into his bag. Great, now he just needs to hope that it doesn’t hop out the back while he’s in mid-air.

 

“Incoming call from Colleen Wing.” Karen says.

 

“Hey, what’s up?” Spider-Man says from his perch on a roof, puppy whimpering in his other ear.

 

“Give me the dog baby.” She says.

 

“Sweet. Where can I meet you?”

 

It’s not the weirdest exchanging of goods Peter’s ever had. Colleen has a carrier lined with a blanket ready when he meets her outside of a coffee shop.

 

She starts baby talking it immediately.

 

Spider-Man laughs at that and replies to a message from Clint asking if the dog’s available.

 

He has to pose for a few pictures with tourists before swinging away.

 

It takes three hours to get back to the apartment and the buzzing in his head is gone, he feels blissfully light. This is why he put on the suit in the first place. To help people. He’s the friendly neighbourhood guy, not some arm breaking psycho.

 

There were no violent encounters, it didn’t even get close. What a good day for New York.

 

The apartment’s quiet without Michelle. He knows he should take advantage because as soon as the baby’s born he’s gonna miss the silence. Right now, it’s kinda unbearable.

 

He watches a vine compilation while eating leftover curry. Ned’s conversation bubble pops up.

 

**Nod Loods:** Sup Dude?

**Pootor Porkor:** ntm, watching vines. Ran into Flash today.

**Nod Loods:** the adobe extension? How’s it been?

**Pootor Porkor:** ha haaaaaa u’re so funny

**Pootor Porkor:** he was good. He has a bf now.

**Nod Loods:** to the surprise of no one

**Pootor Porkor:** that’s exactly what Michelle is gonna say

**Nod Loods:** how’s life without wife btw?

**Pootor Porkor:** oh… you know i’m cutting the sleeves off all my shirts

**Nod Loods:** I’m legitimately worried that you’re gonna get caught in like… one of those plastic beer holders and be found dead in miami

**Pootor Porkor:** don’t joke about that, Ned, it happened to Doctor Connors

**Nod Loods:** he died in miami?

**Pootor Porkor:** he got better

 

He gets a Snap from Michelle. She’s at dinner with Liz and they’re filming each other.

 

Peter resigns himself to a night of hanging out on the ceiling and practicing A Cruel Angel’s Thesis on the trombone. He’s had a productive day, might as well fuck around.

 

He gets snaps of Liz and Michelle cuddling in their DC hotel room and he isn’t jealous. He is envious. They look so cosy.

 

He sends kissy faces and Michelle replies with a video of her giggling while Liz keeps putting M&M’s on her belly. Little thumps from baby feet send them rolling onto the sheets.

 

Peter sends a video back of him saying, “You’d better eat those.”

 

He apparently sends too much of himself in the frame because he gets the written response.

 

**Michelle:** lmao nice boner

 

Peter squeaks and looks down. He’s only rocking a semi and it’s not even from arousal. It’s just one of those ‘I am a penis and I fill with blood sometimes’ boners. Aw jeez, Liz probably saw it.

 

**Peter:** are you not entertained?

**Peter:** it’s cold okay   
**Peter:** i’m allowed to be erect in my own damn house. Also, sorry Liz.   
**Michelle:** it’s okay Penis Parker, I know he perks up when he sees me   
**Michelle:** (Liz did not see your dingus, Dingus)

 

He’s going through the Netflix queue and sees Farscape. Peter takes a deep breath and presses ‘play’.

 

(“Pilot is a combination of puppetry and robotics. They had to have a puppeteer inside of his body, but were able to control his movements using animatronics.” Ben says, tossing some kettle corn into his mouth.

 

“Are you watching Starscape again?” May says, coming through the door with groceries.

 

Peter hops up to help.

 

“Farscape, May.” He says, not unkindly.

 

She stops to kiss the top of Ben’s head on her way to the kitchen. He tilts his head back to peck her on the lips. 

 

May returns her attention to the TV while Ben gets up.

 

“This is the one with Claudia Black right?” She says.

 

He scoffs, “Yes, this is the one with your girlfriend.”

 

“Just saying, Honey, if she offered I wouldn’t say ‘No’.” May says.

 

“Ben was just telling me that they used robots for this. That’s like, a way I can make robots without them being war machines.” Peter says.

 

“Hear that, May? The boy wants to make muppets.”)

 

Michelle comes home to find him halfway through season two and a sleeve of fudge stripes. He has tear tracks on his cheeks and is wrapped in a blanket.

 

“Hey Hot Mess.” She flops onto the couch next to him.

 

“I cleaned the apartment and put up all of my Spidey-Art.” Peter says, hand going to her womb.

 

“I can see that.” She yawns.

 

“How was the ride back?” He says.

 

“Sucked. Remind me to stop leaving New York.” Michelle says.

 

She’s worming her way into his blanket burrito. Peter helps her so they’re cuddling on the couch, her head on his chest. He feeds her a fudge stripe.

 

“You’re watching Farscape.” She says.

 

“Yeah.” Peter says.

 

Michelle stares at him for a long time. (He’s having flashbacks to that tingle he felt whenever she was studying him in high school. She’d always be looking at her book when he turned around.)

 

“Okay.” She says, leaving the topic alone and resting her head against his heart.

 

He appreciates it because he’s cried a lot. Netflix’s data never forgot the exact moment he and Ben stopped watching, so just pressing play was a reminder that, along with everything else, life marched on without Ben. This show was the last place he could pause time. They were supposed to watch another episode that night after he finished his homework. (Instead, he spent the night scrubbing blood out from under his nails while May sat on the kitchen floor staring at the ceiling.)

 

Ben’s dead and Peter’s life is what it is now because of every action and reaction that came after. If he wants to move forward as a father then he needs to let go.

 

And, he’s not fully sure what that looks like, but he’s gonna start with finishing Farscape and visiting Ben to tell him how it ends.

 

* * *

 

Stark Industries reflects Tony in that it is constantly changing its appearance. He’s always making minor adjustments to his suits, tinkering for solutions with any problem. R&D is no different. The glass doors are replaced by bulletproof glass, replaced by alien tech that goes between transparent and matte depending on the electrical charge. Today, they’ve added chairs shaped like Iron Man’s hands to the lobby.

 

“Hey, Peter, can you help me carry this?” 

 

“Sure thing.” Peter keeps his eyes on the book in his hand as he bends at the knees to help and lift the other end of the box that Mehcad is carrying.

 

He makes sure to make a pained grunt and go, “Whew.” when setting it down, then gets back to his book.

 

“Hey Peter, my balloon is stuck on the ceiling, can you grab it for me?” Tara says.

 

Peter lowers his book to look at the ceiling. It shouldn’t be too high of a jump to make him look superhuman. He uses minimal effort and grabs the string.

 

“Here you go.” Peter says.

 

He picks up the book and continues on his way to his desk. He pushes his shoes off and stretches his toes, He always works better barefoot.

 

“Pete, catch!” Says Indira.

 

Peter doesn’t look up to catch the pencil thrown at him.

 

“What’s this?” He says.

 

“Making sure everyone’s constantly vigilant.” Indira says.

 

“Okay.” Peter squints.

 

They’re all acting weird today. Probably some kind of prank aimed at him that he’s just not going to put effort into. The book on baby care Clint loaned him is really engaging. He’s sure this is all going to go out the window when Michelle actually gives birth and they’re reacting on instinct to having a tiny poop monster take over their lives.

 

He sits in his usual spot at lunch and doesn’t have to look up to notice that more people are sitting with him than usual.

 

“Hey Peter, mind if we sit here?” Mehcad says.

 

“Go ahead.” Peter goes back to his sandwich.

 

“Did you guys hear that Spider-Man was hanging out in Brooklyn this weekend?” Tara says.

 

Peter glances at her over the top of his book. She’s eating bibimbap and that reminds him that he’s been meaning to try a bulgogi recipe.

 

“It’s been awhile since anyone’s seen Spider-Man, it’s good to see that he’s back. I was worried something had happened to him.” Indira says.

 

“It could be a new Spider-Man. Under that mask it could be anybody.” Peter says, keeping his tone neutral as he flips a page.

 

“Yeah, anybody who happens to be a white male, between five foot six and five foot nine, with brown hair and a strong jaw.” Tara says.

 

“Oh yeah, and between the age of like twenty-six and thirty.” Mehcad says.

 

“And from Queens. Friendly Neighbourhood operations and all that.” Indira says.

 

There’s a silence as Peter turns his page. He looks up briefly to make sure his salad won’t fall off his fork.

 

“How old are you again, Peter?” Tara says.

 

“Twenty-three.” He says.

 

“Jesus, you’ve been doing this since you were fifteen?! What is wrong with Stark?” Indira says.

 

It figures, the R&D department at Stark Industries would figure it out in a few months. Peter sighs.

 

“What tipped you off?” He says.

 

“I came into the gym to find you enthusiastically grooving while lifting five hundred pounds.” Mehcad says.

 

Peter curses. Tony has a private gym reserved for Avengers on the thirteenth floor, but Nat and Steve had an enthusiastic sparring match that means it’s going to be in need of repairs (see: getting weights removed from plaster) for another few weeks. Peter’s trying to stay in shape, so he found a free block to queue up his workout jam and tire himself out. He was jamming to Natasha Bedingfield and wasn’t paying attention. (How could he when he had a  _ pocketful of sunshine?  _ There’s no way to listen to that song and not pretend to be in a music video.) 

 

So, of course, there’s evidence of his freakish spider strength.

 

“Then you jumped like eight feet in the air to grab my balloon.” Tara says.

 

“And caught the pencil I shot at you with a freaking nail gun like you were catching a softly thrown ball.” Indira says.

 

“Wow, thanks for trying to harm me in the name of science.” Peter says, rubbing his temples.

 

“This is so cool. You’re Spider-Man.” Tara says.

 

“You know my identity also counts as part of your NDA and Tony will send so many lawsuits if you reveal it.” Peter says in the blunt way he picked up from Michelle.

 

“Oh totally.” Mehcad says.

 

“Does Michelle have powers?” Tara says.

 

“She can lift Thor’s hammer.” Peter says.

 

They all ‘oo’ at that.

 

“So, how did you get the powers?” Indira says.

 

“Inquiring minds need to know.” Tara says.

 

Peter swivels in his seat to look out the window and points to the skyscraper opposite them.

 

“Oscorp?” Mehcad says.

 

Peter nods and leaves it at that.

 

“Huh, could’ve sworn it would have to do with like… Captain America’s super soldier serum.” Tara says.

 

“Regularly, you’d be right, but Spiders Pete, who lives in a cave and makes over ten thousand webs a day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted.”

 

* * *

 

Peter dons the suit twice a week now. Just for stuff inside Queens, small things. Nothing scary, just rescuing cats and helping walk drunk girls home. It’s the kind of fresh air and exercise he needs, because he gets annoying when he’s antsy. (MJ thinks he’s cute regardless, but he can tell he gets on her nerves when he’s a ball of energy.)

 

It’s been a pretty chill night. He captured the drone of some teenage boys spying on their neighbour undressing and read them the riot act about respecting womens’ bodies and right to privacy. They still ask for a selfie with him.

 

“Only if it’s a Snapchat and I get to say my piece.” Spider-Man says.

 

So, they post a video of him saying, “Remember kids, don’t take creeper shots of girls.” 

 

They all look a little more sober at that.

 

He finds a teenager locked out of their house by their parents and curled up on the steps. Spider-Man grits his teeth at the image and makes a mental note of the address for a serious talk with this kids parents.

 

“Hey, hey, wake up.” Spider-Man says.

 

The boy jumps at the sight of him, “Spider-Man? I’m not loitering. I can move.” He hugs his arms.

 

Spider-Man shakes his head, “I don’t care about loitering, Dude. I’m gonna get you inside and warm.”

 

It takes a little convincing to get the kid to hop on his back and hold on as he scales the house to the boy’s bedroom window. Spider-Man feels the lock snap as he opens it and helps the boy in.

 

“Call this number if that ever happens again.” Spider-Man says.

 

He writes the number on the window in webbing. It’s extra as fuck, but that’s kind of his thing.

 

It’s past two now and Michelle is going to start being concerned. He takes the route past Delmar’s because he always likes to check in. 

 

“Hey Spidey!” Mr. Delmar says.

 

“Hey!” Spider-Man says.

 

He scoots past a girl deliberating over which artisanal ginger ale to buy and the dudes reeking of weed stuffing their arms with chips to pet Murph.

 

“Everything good?” Spider-Man says.

 

“It’s a quiet night. The usual?” Mr. Delmar says.

 

“You bet.” Spider-Man says.

 

Delmar rings him through for a box of Melona bars and a power bar. Spider-Man pays with the Avengers credit card. (He’ll reimburse Tony because it’s not a business expense, but it’s easier than carrying cash and hides his identity. ((He’s pretty sure Delmar knows who he is, because when the shop is otherwise he’ll ask about Spider-Man’s aunt.)))

 

He’s scaling the building, power bar in mouth and box of ice cream webbed to his back when he hears angry voices telling someone to,

 

“Put your hands in the air!”

 

Spidey swings into action, following the voices to the empty lot behind a sandwich shop. Two police officers have a teenage black boy backed up against a wall. He has his hands in the air, following their commands.

 

“Hoodie down!” One shouts.

 

“Do you want my hands up or do you want me to take down my hood, Officers? I can’t do both.” The boy’s voice is shaky, but familiar.

 

Oh, shit. It’s Miles.

 

“Don’t disrespect me, Boy!” The bigger cop says.

 

“It’s a good question.” Spider-Man says.

 

He drops into view, putting himself between Miles and the guns pointed at him.

 

“What seems to be the problem, Officers?” Spider-Man feels his brain trying to disengage with the anxiety of loaded guns aimed at his chest.

 

He can’t. He needs to be present for this.

 

“You’re impeding our investigation of a suspect, Vigilante.” The smaller cop says.

 

“The one that said, ‘Be on the lookout for a African American male, aged thirty-five to forty, grey hoodie and white shorts’?” Spider-Man says.

 

He moves his hands to present Miles in a sarcastic manner. Miles’s legs are shaking in his jeans. He’s trying to shrink further into his red hoodie.

 

Peter Parker has never been described as: imposing, threatening, or intimidating. ‘Puppy’ is a much more common description. As Spider-Man, he’s still only a five-foot-eight very athletic man. A shiver runs up his spine as the bigger cop tries to get physical. Who does this guy think he is?

 

His skull makes a thwack as he hits the sidewalk and Spider-Man winces. Sending one of New York City’s finest to the hospital will have more consequences than tearing the arm off a robber.

 

He webs the cops together with some quick moves of his wrists. His hands are shaking with rage. He channels all of that into his movements, thinking of the lessons he received from Bucky on ‘how to be fucking terrifying’. He doesn’t need to rely on the advanced interrogation mode to make his voice drop to deadly low. He gets in the faces of the cops and says,

 

“This is my neighbourhood and I’m gonna make sure all of the kids get home safe.”

 

Spider-Man storms away from them to lift a dumpster over his head as a display of strength. (A plastic bag falls out and he ignores it because it really takes away from what he’s doing.) He sets it down gently.

 

“Come on. I’ll walk you to your mom’s.” Spider-Man retrieves Miles’s backpack from the ground. They walk past the two cops on their way and Spider-Man jumps at them. One screams and Spider-Man smells fresh urine.

 

Once they’re far enough away, Spider-Man turns to Miles.

 

“Are you okay?” He says.

 

“Yeah. Thanks.” Miles is monosyllabic.

 

Spider-Man stops and pulls Miles into a hug. Miles is stiff at first, one hand still gripping the strap of his backpack.

 

“Why did they stop you?” Peter says.

 

“They caught me coming out of an alley. I had just changed out of my suit and couldn’t exactly tell them that, so they drew their weapons.” Miles says.

 

He shrugs and it breaks Peter’s heart.

 

“Can I get you a slice of pizza or something? That was pretty fucked up.” Peter says.

 

“Thanks, Spidey, but I just wanna go home and hug my mom if that’s cool with you.” Miles says.

 

“Yeah, I get it. Cool cool cool.” Spider-Man still insists on escorting Miles to his house. 

 

“Love you, Bro.” Peter says, clapping Miles on the back.

 

“Love you too. Can you ask your fiance to call me and give me her Tedtalk on King Lear? Shakespeare makes my brain hurt.” Miles says.

 

“Will do. You’re asking for it though.” Peter says.

 

Peter wakes up to the shrill chirp of the Avengers’ phone the next day. He checks the time, 10:30. Could be worse.

 

“This is PJs.” He grunts into the receiver.

 

“We have a report that you threw a dumpster at a pair of police officers.” Tony’s voice is terse.

 

“Check the nanny cam with Karen, I did no such thing.” Peter says.

 

“Fucking fascists.” Michelle mumbles from her pillow.

 

He’s not sure if that’s a diss aimed at the police or Tony. 

 

“They went to Jameson.” Tony says.

 

“Fuck me.” Peter slaps his own face.

 

“Now, that’s an idea.” Michelle says.

 

He’s caught between grinning at that and the utter dread that sinks to the pit of his stomach. He checks the Bugle on his phone. Top trending article: **Spider-Menace Threatens New York’s Finest**.

 

“Fuck.” Peter grunts.

 

“You are grounded. Again.” Tony says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch me outside, still salty about One More Day.
> 
> I do this in a different format every chapter.
> 
> Memes referenced:  
> spiders georg  
> centipedes, in my vagina?  
> 1-800-Are-You-Slapping?  
> pizza rat  
> denim clothes meme  
> a cruel angel's thesis/eva covers  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aZVkW9p-cCU  
> https://media.giphy.com/media/xTiTnr0lQObHdzDeWA/giphy.gif  
> https://pics.onsizzle.com/Facebook-41a173.png
> 
> (Yeah, these would all be hella dated memes by 8 years from now, but I'm not gonna make up new memes to keep it relevant. They're just nerds who enjoy vintage memes, okay?)
> 
> Fact: part of why this fic exist is so that I can have Peter Parker play this (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YrKMiE9WII0) while on the ceiling. 
> 
> You can find my on tumblr @holyfuckabear if you wanna slide in my DM's to talk about headcanons or whatever. My blog is mostly shitposting.

**Author's Note:**

> I know the canon names of the comic character's offspring. I changed them due to some considerations.
> 
> Danielle Cage is the daughter of Jessica and Luke. Jessica and Luke don't have a kid in this. Also, I can't see MCU Luke Cage marrying his daughter after Danny Rand.  
> And I didn't wanna make it awkward to have Danny name his kid Lucy after Luke and then have it not be reciprocated, so Lee.  
> Tony doesn't have any canon kids, so I went with Ana after Ana Jarvis.
> 
> I went with pop culture I thought the gang would consume in-character.
> 
> References:  
> Cancelled Pacific Rim Cartoon: My shattered hopes and dreams  
> Glee: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WkkRbmbS6gg  
> Yahoo Answers: does spider have pusspuss?  
> Filthyfrank: しりを食べる (Frank uses けつ but I wanted to make this easier for people who look it up on Google Translate)  
> Peter/Ned/MJ's sweaters: https://www.rageon.com/products/mini-sausage-sweater (I'm not getting commission from this, it's just the kind of shitpost design they'd wear)  
> Rick and Morty: You pass butter.
> 
> (I'm sorry, Tom Holland. Your beard is good.)


End file.
